Capture the Castle
by Heroic Panda
Summary: Lovino Vargas is sick of being passed from counsellor to counsellor and he's slowly starting to lose hope. But when he starts to see his latest counsellor, it seems like he has a new light in his life. But Lovino is a mess, and Antonio isn't as free from his dark past as he pretends to be. How can Antonio fix Lovino if he himself is broken?
1. Chapter 1

**My first ever fanfiction! Wow, I'm a little nervous. Well, that's a total lie; I'm actually super nervous. I apologise if anyone seems OOC, but hey, I'm new at this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or it's characters!**

* * *

Chapter One- Opportunity

"…I'm telling you, I think this is exactly what you need. Antonio, you've been floating around for a while now. You can't do sweet FA for the rest of your life. That job belongs to the awesome me!" A familiar laugh rang in Antonio Fernandez Carriedo's ear as he dragged his hand down his face, exhaling.

"Gilbert, I know you went out of your way to do this for me. I'm just not sure if it's what I'm looking for. Honestly, I was looking for something a little more… I don't know, advanced? I worked very hard for my qualifications, and this just seems a little basic." He tapped his fingers off the phone as he stared at a letter that sat on his table. He hadn't been surprised when he received it. It was expected. But now that he _had_ received it, he was left confused as to what to do about it. It was a job offer. An offer it was, but Antonio wasn't sure it offered enough.

"Dude, you graduated two months ago! You have a Master's Degree in Psychology! You are twenty two, you're still young! Look, I was there to observe classes for my course and I noticed how desperate they were. They couldn't find _anyone_ to take the job, and then I remembered you were looking for work. It just goes to show how desperate they were if they listened to me. I'm serious man, take the job. It's an awesome offer! I don't know what you expected, but you know what my opa used to say? To get to the top, you have to start at the bottom. It's not as bad as you think. Go for it Antonio, seriously. You won't get anything better at this stage in your life."

Antonio was shocked at the uncharacteristically serious speech from his German (although he insisted he was Prussian) friend, Gilbert Beilschmidt. "Amigo, I think you may be right," he chuckled. "I've never known you to be so serious for such a long time."

"Damn right!" Gilbert laughed in reply. "Don't you dare make me do it again. Hey, mein bruder will be there to look after you. Go and make the call! And meet me for a beer tonight. I need a drink." He sighed and Antonio swore he could feel his depression radiating from the receiver. Guilt stung him. He had been so wrapped up in his small pickle, he hadn't even realised Gilbert was down about something.

"Is it Elizabeta again?" he guessed.

"Ja. That woman!" Antonio felt pity for his friend. Gilbert and Elizabeta had been doing a merry dance around each other for over a year now, and nobody, not even the two in question, knew whether or not they were friends, enemies or lovers. "Mein Gott, I don't even know how to classify our relationship. Women are messed up man, _messed up_. Just meet me at the usual place at nine tonight." With one final heavy sigh, he hung up.

Antonio studied the letter that sat in front of him. _Hetalia Academy_, it said at the top. It promised a position for him to take up at his leisure. A job as the school counsellor. Well, he had studied for what felt like a lifetime to earn his degree in psychology so he was definitely qualified for that. The academy was only across the other side of the city and it would be easy enough to get there. The pay was good too. He had wanted to work with adults, but he always had been good with kids, hadn't he? He always got on well when he had to look after his younger brother. Not that he had much of a choice back then. Still, Gilbert was right; he had no reason to complain. This was a good offer and he'd be a fool to pass over it. Anyway, money was tight and he didn't want to have to get some dead end, mind numbing job as a shelf stacker, or a till worker, or whatever else the world threw at desperados whilst waiting for a miracle dream job to crop up.

He looked at the number at the bottom of the page and typed it into his phone. He swallowed nervously as it rang. "Hello, this is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. I'm calling about a job offer I received…"

* * *

As schools went, Hetalia Academy was by no means the biggest Antonio had ever seen, nor was it the fanciest. Actually, it was a little run down looking. The walls were cleaner in areas where it was obvious that graffiti had once been. The paint on the gates was black and flaking. He could see the shapes of students sitting in their classes through the windows. A wide range of cars were crushed into a small parking lot and Antonio was glad he had chosen to take the bus to work- he had no idea how anyone managed to squeeze their car in there every morning and how they got it _out_ didn't even bear thinking about.

No, it wasn't smart, it wasn't upscale and it wasn't showy. But as Antonio walked through the hall to reach the principal's office and he saw the students wandering from class to class with grins on their faces and he heard all the different accents as conversations bounced off the walls around him, he got a sense that this was a happy place. Everyone seemed to mix together regardless of nationality. He was glad he chose to take the job after all the deliberation. It was nice, and he found himself looking forward to his first day at work. The only thing that made him feel uneasy was the ever so slightly frosty receptionist who glared at him in annoyance as she pointed him in the direction of the head's office. With her platinum blond hair, her dark eyes and her icy, upheld demeanour Antonio could imagine her as the ruler of some far off, freezing country. The Ice Queen herself.

He managed to find the principal's office and was about to knock on the door. "Come in!" called a voice as his knuckles hovered in mid-knock. That was a little unnerving. How had they realised he was there? He shoved his reservations aside and opened the door. He was greeted by the sight of a rather feminine Asian man who introduced himself as Yao Wang and gestured for him to take a seat. Antonio suppressed the urge to smile when he thought of how his friend Francis would react over the name _Yao Wang_. "Welcome to Hetalia Academy, Mr…. Er… Aru…"

"Call me Antonio," the Spaniard said quickly. Crap. Was that too informal? But Mr Fernandez, or Mr Carriedo, or _Mr Fernandez Carriedo_! They all sounded very alien sounding and Antonio liked none of them. Still, Antonio didn't want to be seen as unprofessional on his first day. He fidgeted in his chair, gauging the older man's reaction.

Luckily, he didn't bat an eyelid at Antonio's forwardness. "Welcome, Antonio! I can't tell you how relieved I am that you decided to take the job. I tried everything, but nobody would work at such short notice. You are a godsend!" As Antonio watched the man speak, he couldn't quite put an age to him. His face was young, but his warm, chocolate eyes somehow seemed too old for him. There were no pictures in the room depicting family or anything of the sort. The only things that gave any indication of his character were a stuffed panda that was perched on top of a large bookshelf that was bursting with files and beside it was something that looked vaguely similar to a Hello Kitty doll. A mature man wouldn't have that kind of thing in his office, would he? Antonio guessed that Yao wasn't that much older than himself, probably in his late twenties.

"I admit that you wouldn't be my find choice under normal circumstances, what with you being so young and inexperienced… But you've certainly got the qualifications. Anyway, I'm looking forward to working with you!" A bell dinged outside the office and Antonio jumped at the unexpected noise. He gave a wan smile in apology and looked at the clock; nine o'clock.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Mr Wang." Yao interjected, protesting at the formality. "Yao," Antonio corrected himself. "It came exactly when I needed it. I was starting to worry about how I was going to pay this month's rent! I know I'm young, but I promise I'll perform just as well as any teacher senior to me!" He was hoping the conversation would come to a close soon. As nice as Yao seemed, he was anxious to get the work day started and hopefully settle into a familiar routine. Luckily, Yao himself was in a rush to get a move on and led Antonio to his new, first ever office.

Antonio felt a surge of pride. But he suddenly remembered something, and turned to question his companion. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you know I was there before I even knocked?"

"Oh. That." Something flashed across the man's face and Antonio swore he saw the atmosphere around Yao darken. "Natalia, the receptionist. She's very… Efficient-aru." Apparently Yao had a small speech habit that he let slip when he felt nervous, confused or under pressure. Antonio sensed there was something more behind Yao's brief explanation, but it didn't really feel like it was his place to ask questions. That, and the two men were in something of a hurry. With a wish for good luck and a friendly wave, Yao was gone and Antonio was left in the room alone.

The room was close to reception, much to Antonio's relief. Hopefully it would reduce his chances of getting lost. The school may not have been big, but Antonio didn't have a head for directions and would rather avoid having to ask for the way. He was a teacher; he was supposed to be professional. He didn't want to act like a nervous schoolboy on his first day of big boy school!

He laughed at the nameplate that sat on his desk. _Mr Fernandez Carriedo_. He wondered if he could get the students to call him Mr C instead of that mouthful. The room wasn't too big and it was sparsely decorated with an empty bookshelf, a filing cabinet and a tall potted plant that sat in the corner, wilting slightly. The walls were an exciting shade of grey-purple and the carpet a charcoal grey colour. _So much grey_, he thought. He decided to personalise the room as soon as he could. Dropping his bag on the desk and sinking into his chair like an overgrown teenager, he glanced nervously at the clock. Ten past nine. His first student was due in five minutes. His stomach felt like a washing machine, churning with feelings of anticipation, apprehension and joy. Who cared if the job hadn't been what he originally wanted? Antonio had placed his foot on the first rung of the ladder to success. Each day could only lead him closer.

Things were off to a good start, and Antonio got the satisfying feeling that it was all going his way.

* * *

**Well, that's that! We'll meet Lovino in the next chapter. Things might move a bit slowly at first, but I promise you they'll pick up soon! I have big plans for this story. There are a few things I want to mention before moving on: this story will involve boy x boy, yaoi, whatever you want to call it, so if you're not into that then please no flames, just don't read it. There will be self-harm at some point in the future, but I'll warn you when that comes. As of now, I have no plans for the rating to move up and I don't really foresee it happening. If you liked this chapter, then please review? Critical advice would be great too, so I know how to improve in the future! I'm also looking for a beta reader, so any offers would be greatly appreciated. I'll try to update at least once a week, which should be pretty likely as I'm currently on my summer holidays. Thanks a million for reading, and I'll see you all next week!**

**Translations:**

**Opa- Grandpa**

**Ja- Yes**

**Amigo- Friend**

**Mein bruder- My brother**

**Mein Gott- My God**


	2. Chapter 2

**Introducing Lovino! Now, we all know the lovely Italian has a very unfortunate potty mouth. So this chapter will contain a few swears.**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine!**

* * *

Chapter Two- First Impressions

Lovino hated white. White was pure, white was innocent, white was calm and white was a colour that everyone could stand to look at. Lovino was none of those things; in fact, he was the polar opposite of all of them. It was because of his hatred for the colour he found himself glaring at the wall with enough force to set the damn thing on fire.

_How much longer will this go on_, he wondered. Sixteen years old and he was once again sitting outside the office of some quack who only wanted to do their gosh-darn best to help Lovino with his _problems_. And once more, he would refuse all offers and simply do what he could to keep up his defences against it all. Every week, for six years, he had been forced by his nonno to see a counsellor and talk about everything that was wrong with him. Well, Lovino knew every single one of his imperfections and he didn't want anyone else pointing out the obvious, thank you very much.

How many counsellors had it been now? First there had been a man named Roderich Edelstein. He was young, he was rich and he had had no idea what he was doing. _I'm sure daddy forced him into a profession he didn't want for the sake of the family name_, he had thought. There had been many instances of awkward silences that neither had made much effort to fill. Roderich had looked thoroughly bored during all of their meetings and Lovino shared his sentiments. The only time he had looked alive and interested was when Lovino half-heartedly asked about a picture of him playing a beautiful grand piano in an attempt to at least try and not waste his nonno's money. Silence was not golden- it was expensive. But after just a month or two, Roderich had quit and passed him on to a friend. And so, it began.

The second was a busty young lady named Katerina Braginskaya. She had been even more clueless than the first and she spent more time talking about her confusing family issues than what was actually supposed to be discussed. She lasted longer than Roderich, but Lovino had decided that enough was enough and stopped seeing her of his own accord. His nonno was furious, but he had managed to stay out of counselling for nearly a whole year and a half until… _the_ _incident_.

After that there had been many more well-wishers, but Lovino was through being nice and did everything he could to anger people, to make them hate him. It was something he had perfected over the years. He deserved it in the end: the hatred, the dirty looks, the cruel words that he knew were tossed carelessly from person to person behind his back and he welcomed it all. Who was he to complain? He had forgotten what it was like to be truly happy. Agony and anguish followed him like a bad smell, and the more people he could push away, the more people who would be exempt from his misery. It was all for the best in the end.

And so, here he was, sitting outside the office of his new counsellor. Nonno had stopped paying for them and he was forced to see one through school. He would have been embarrassed, had he cared about what anyone thought of him. Fortunately he didn't, and he had no bother ignoring the too-loud-to-be-whispered conversations that echoed in his ears as students strolled leisurely by him. Children could be cruel, he knew that.

It was almost three o'clock and nobody had called him into the office yet. Had he been forgotten? It wouldn't have been the first time. He was sick of waiting. He stood up and flung the office door open angrily, ready to unleash his fury on…nobody. The room was empty. "Bastard," he grumbled, taking a seat. This _Mr Fernandez Carriedo_,according to the nameplate that sat on his desk. What a name. There was no way he was saying that. _This man will be known as "The Bastard" for now and for evermore_, he decided.

The door opened suddenly, slamming against the wall and shocking Lovino out of his reverie. He gave a small undignified yelp and turned to inflict the guilty party with his acid tongue. He was surprised to find himself looking into the greenest pair of eyes he had ever seen. "I'm so sorry!" the culprit exclaimed. He had a nice, lilting accent, Lovino noticed. He stopped to catch his breath and his chest heaved with every gasping gulp for air he made. His skin had a slight tan, although he was rather red in the face. Obviously he had made some sort of mad dash to get here.

He ran a hand through his unruly chocolate coloured locks and straightened up, trying to compose himself. "Lo siento… I got lost. It's my first day, and I can't find my way out of a paper bag! I'm Mr Fernandez Carriedo, but you can call me Mr C. Or, if you want to, you can even call me Antonio!" He held out a hand and flashed a ten million watt smile that almost hurt to look at, it was so full of good intent.

"What the fuck," Lovino spat. He ignored the friendly gesture and turned his back on the man. "I don't care about your name, bastard. Let's just get this over and done with. It'll be a whole lot less painful for the both of us." He returned to his seat and scowled at the man as he took his own seat on the other side of the desk. His frown deepened as he watched the man hang his long legs over the arm of the chair whilst he rummaged through his bag. Had his mother never taught him how to sit properly?

"Sí, of course," he replied distractedly as he continued to search. He finally pulled out a slightly crumpled file and flipped through the pages until he found what he needed. "Lovino Vargas! It's nice to meet you. I've been busy all day, so I haven't had a chance to read your file. Would you mind filling me in?" He looked at Lovino expectantly, grinning stupidly. His question was met with silence. The grin slid off his face slowly. "What seems to be the problem? Exam stress, bullying, relationship troubles?" He had stopped smiling, but his face was still hopeful. Lovino did not indulge him. "None of those?" he asked desperately.

Lovino couldn't believe it. Did this bastard seriously think he had come here to discuss some petty problem like that? He hadn't even bothered to read his file. And he was just sitting there, looking like a wounded puppy as Lovino glared at him with all his might. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he laughed bitterly. "Look here, bastardo. I wish those were the only things that were wrong with me, I really do. But you don't always get what you wish for. I've only met you, and I don't like you. I hate happy saps like you. The glass is always half full, the world is tinted pink, there are unicorns flying around just shitting out rainbows and sparkles!" He was close to shouting as he hurled the words at his target. He needed to insult him, shock him, make some kind of rift between himself and this man who was too nice for Lovino to even consider associating with; such a genuine person would only get corrupted if he spent too long in his company. He shoved his chair back and stomped over to the door, flicking his eyes to the clock. Twenty past three. "I hate you because I can't join you in Happy Land. And now I'm pretty sure you hate me. I'm glad we've found some mutual ground. I'll see you next week, idiota." He hesitated, one foot in the door and one foot out. "For the record, you should read the goddamned file."

He vanished, leaving one very confused Antonio behind. "What was that about?" the conflicted Spaniard wondered aloud to himself. Where had he gone wrong? Everywhere, obviously. He had assumed that the Italian was dealing with the same silly predicaments that all the previous students had been dealing with, but Lovino was clearly one troubled boy. Then again, just as he been incorrect in making assumptions, the Italian also was further from the truth than he would ever guess. "A skeleton in every closet, Lovino," he mumbled to himself as he opened the "goddamned file" and set to reading.

* * *

The autumn chill nipped at Lovino's nose as he walked home from school with his brother Feliciano trotting at his heels. He sighed, trying to release the day's tensions and he was thankful that it was Friday. He had two whole days to himself before he had to deal with school again. The trees along the sidewalk were a swirling palette of burning oranges, vivid reds and precious golds. He tightened his scarf around his neck in an attempt to conserve some warmth and Feliciano grabbed his hand suddenly. "Ve~! Fratello, you'll never guess what happened today," he sang cheerfully.

When Lovino had told Antonio that he hated happy fools, it hadn't been strictly true. Feliciano was the happiest fool he knew and sometimes he acted as though his head was only there to stop his brain from dragging behind him as he walked, but he was family and Lovino loved him. He had no problem letting his guard down around his younger brother because there was not one single bad thought that floated around in that head of his. That, and Feliciano was one of the few people who could stand to be around him for a long period of time.

Another person who could stand him was his nonno, but he wasn't sure what to make of their relationship. It was troubled, at best, he supposed.

"I won't guess Feli," he sighed. "So you had better tell me."

"Do you remember Ludwig?" the shorter boy asked innocently, his gentle eyes sparkling with the excitement of whatever big news he was bursting to tell the world.

"Oh, that… Yes, I remember him." He had almost said "that potato bastard", but stopped himself before his tongue slipped. He couldn't stand the look of hurt in his brother's doe-eyes when he said it. Lovino didn't know how he could forget the aforementioned German; he was huge, built like a tank and his speech was harsh and severe compared to Feliciano's soft and melodic voice. It was hard to remove the scary, blonde giant from his memory. "What about him?"

"Ve~ Fratello, don't freak out but…" He raised a thoughtful finger to his lips. "But he….Ah, he kissed me today." Lovino was a little jealous of the far-away look on his brother's face, clearly replaying the memory over and over in his mind's eye. But it wasn't that surprising that his younger brother had experienced his first kiss before him. They were chalk and cheese; as different as day and night. Why kiss a bitter, twisted teen when you could have his sweeter, more bearable younger brother?

"Did you kiss him back?" Lovino asked lightly, trying to sound more interested than he actually was. Making out with Ludwig was probably akin to kissing a wall.

"I did. It was nice. He asked if I would go out with him, and I said I would love to. Then he apologised and said he probably should have asked me out _before_ kissing me, but I didn't mind at all. Lovi, do you think nonno will mind that I'm gay? I wasn't ever scared before, but now I'm worried he'll stop me from seeing Ludwig, and I don't want that to happen."

"I highly doubt nonno will care in the slightest," Lovino assured him. His nonno had a long list of lovers. In fact, he had probably lured his first victim into his "loving arms" when he first started to toddle around. Many strangers, men and women, had passed through the doors of his house since his two grandchildren had started living there, and while Feliciano was too young and too naïve to know exactly what his grandfather got up to, Lovino had caught on pretty fast. "He'll probably start to wonder what's keeping me from bringing someone home, now that you've got yourself a boyfriend."

"Lovino, is there someone you like?" Feliciano questioned the older boy with a tilt of his head.

"_No!_" he retorted quickly. Actually, he had never thought about it. He noticed the pretty girls around school, but they all looked straight through him. Whilst he was always uncharacteristically friendlier around girls, especially when they were attractive, they generally ignored him. Considering he walked around with a burning scowl on his face most of the time, it was no wonder. He had never questioned whether he was gay or straight either; if the two people involved loved each other, then did it really matter about gender?

"If you say so," Feliciano mused. "Oh, didn't you start seeing a new counsellor today? I think I saw him running around the school earlier. He looked a little lost. I wanted to help him, but he just wouldn't stay in the one place! What was he like?"

Lovino bristled at his brother's innocent inquiry. "I don't want to talk about that bastard," he said simply. It was true.

"Lovi, were you mean to him?"

"I don't care about him." It was a lie. He could ignore the memory of the man's hurt face when he swore at him and threw his questions back in his face, like a kicked puppy. But he couldn't forget how the spark had faded from his eager eyes. They were so bright, so green in the beginning. By the time he left, they had faded to a darker shade, a lifeless emerald. For the first time in years, Lovino felt guilty about intentionally hurting someone.

* * *

"Gimme 'nother drink!" yelled a very drunk Antonio. An indignant Francis shuffled his stool away from his long-time friend. A tipsy albino edged his closer and threw an arm around the woozy Spaniard.

"Mon ami, I think you have had enough, oui? Look at yourself; you can't even sit up properly." Francis shook his head violently at the barman who was carrying another nearly overflowing beer over to the trio. Antonio protested, but sank down in defeat.

"Don't feel bad," drawled Gilbert, who was on his tenth pint and still holding up remarkably well. "You just can't deal with the alcohol like the awesome me! This is piss compared to real, German beer. I pour this stuff on my cereal every morning!" He tossed back his silver head and cackled, for lack of better words.

"Mi amigos, you shoulda seen his face!" Antonio wailed. "An' it was _all my fault_! I was… I was an insensitive idiota!" By this point, he was reduced to a crying mess on the bar counter, oblivious to the daggers that the barman was sending in his direction. "I needed the toilet, but I shoulda read the file instead!"

"You've been saying that all evening," the German and the Frenchman grumbled in unison.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Antonio; c'est la vie. How were you to know you would mess things up so badly?" Francis asked, trying to soothe his unhinged friend.

"Actually, I'd say that it _is_ all your fault," Gilbert said unhelpfully. "Next time ask for directions, or hold it in like a man! Or keep a bottle in the corner." Francis slapped the man across the back of his head, ignoring the very verbal assault he received in return.

"An' now he hates me!" the drunkard whined. "An' even worse, he thinks _I _hate _him_! But I don't hate him! His eyes were amber, like a… Like a traffic light! An' when he got angry, he blushed an' it reminded me of a tomato, an' I wanted to poke his face! An' guys, guys…" He slurred, gesticulating wildly. "He had this one crazy hair, this _loco_ hair. D'you think he woulda hit me if I pulled it? I wanted to." He slammed his head off the counter and stayed there, muttering incoherently to himself.

"He is the loudest, most selfish drunk I know," Francis sighed. "This has been going on since we got here, and I still have no idea who or what he is talking about. He hasn't even asked how things went with you and Elizabeta," he complained to his russet-eyed friend. "How _did_ things go today?"

"Man, we went for a drink last night and he was fine! Elizabeta's still a messed up woman…" Gilbert frowned at his empty glass. "But I think I can call her _my_ messed up woman."

"Magnifique! Did you ask her out? Did she say yes? It's about time!"

"I asked her all right, to the new restaurant that opened up last week. She only hit me once with her frying pan, so I took it as a yes. And I have something else to tell you," Gilbert smirked. "West has a boyfriend!"

"Whassat? No puede ser!"

"Ludwig?" Francis cried. "Mon Dieu! He must be… One big boy… You know, to put up with Ludwig's…" he trailed off and started to laugh to himself. Gilbert knew exactly what he was getting at. He grimaced and tried to get the undesirable image out of his head.

"Nein, it's some airy-fairy kid," he replied. "And please don't talk about mein bruder in that way. I don't even want to think about that! Some things you see can never be unseen, even things in your mind. That is one of them, _arschloch_. "

The only answer he received was the blonde's perverted giggle and a groan from the incapacitated Spaniard.

"Gott, why am I friends with either of you? On one hand, we have a pervert and on the other, an emotionally unstable, overgrown child. You two should be grateful that I'm awesome enough to lower myself to mingle with you lesser mortals," he grumbled to himself.

"He's like how I was…" Antonio had miraculously resurrected himself from the small ocean on the countertop and proceeded to continue the previous discussion. He looked over at the barman apologetically. "He could be _worse_ than me. Ay Dios mio, he could be like Marcos… I was a jerk. No wonder he swore at me and marched out of the room. Pobre chico..."

Gilbert and Francis exchanged a worried look. "Mon ami, do you think you should maybe try and get this boy to see someone else more able to deal with whatever issues he has? If he reminds you of Marcos so, maybe you shouldn't be around him. Especially not now."

"It's almost seven years now," Gilbert added. "This is a bad time."

Antonio banged his fist off the counter and replied, "But don't you see? I could help him! I know better than anyone what he's going through. If I could help him-"

"Then you could redeem yourself, ja?" the albino interrupted. "Make things right where they went so wrong all those years ago? Antonio, we have been telling you for years that it was not your fault. You have nothing to prove. Verstehst du? "

"You don't understand…" he sighed frustratedly. "If you were in my position, then you'd do exactly the same thing," he told Gilbert. "And Francis," he said to the blonde. "You'd do it too, had it been Matthew." He stared at the colourful bottles displayed on the shelves in front of him, refusing to talk any more about it. He had decided. He was going to do whatever it took to help Lovino, the troubled, compelling boy he had just met. Because Antonio knew exactly how the little Italian felt and no one deserved that kind of misery, day in and day out. He was going to help him, and he would die before anyone stopped him.

"Is everyone a depressed drunk these days? _So_ unawesome," Gilbert voiced as he stopped his friend from falling off the stool and receiving one nasty bump to the head that would not go well with the god-awful hangover he would have in the morning.

"Let's just get him home before he drowns in his own sorrow…"

* * *

**A big thanks to my beta, Lilypad the Fourth, for making sure this chapter was worthy of you guys, my awesome readers! The response for the first chapter was **_**amazing**_**. You guys, you make a gal so happy! I almost exploded into sparkles and flowers and bunny rabbits and sunshine and other things associated with sheer joy. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and everyone that added this to their alerts/favourites. You are all level Prussia awesome! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please review and let me know your thoughts.**

**PS: Marcos is an OC for Mexico. We'll be seeing more of him in the near future!**

**Translations:**

**Nonno- Grandfather**

**Sí/oui/ja- Yes**

**Fratello- Brother**

**Bastardo- Bastard**

**Idiota- Idiot**

**Mon ami/mi amigo- My friend**

**C'est la vie- That's life**

**Loco- Crazy**

**Magnifique- Magnificant**

**No puede ser- No way**

**Dieu/Gott/Dios- God**

**Arschloch- Asshole**

**Pobre chico- Poor kid/boy**

**Verstehst du- Do you understand**

**These are all mostly self-explanatory. I think I'll just translate the less obvious ones from now on.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: Self-harm, a hung-over Spaniard and a foul-mouthed Italian.**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine!**

**Chapter Three- Hangovers and Family-Induced Headaches**

He ignored the sympathetic pats on the back. He ignored the many offers of someone to talk to, or just a shoulder to cry on. He didn't want coffee either; didn't anyone understand? He gave the usual answers to those who questioned the cuts and the bruises: he had fallen down the stairs; he had gotten into a fight; he had gotten injured at football practice. He just wanted to be alone. He just wanted to forget.

But he couldn't.

He would never forget. He would never forget the cheerful welcome home he received each day, nor the glee he saw on the young face when he bought him a present as a surprise, nor the many hours he had spent trying to learn how to cook, because who else would do it? He had worked so hard, for the both of them. It had been going so well. It was only going to last for a while longer, and then they would be out of there. What was a few years more compared to what they had been going through for their whole lives?

He would never forget how pale he was when he found him. He thought he was seeing a ghost at first. That was wishful thinking. He was so still. He could have been a statue. It was so quiet. It was black, and it was white. And it was red, red, horrible, crimson, too much red. His eyes were closed. He almost believed he was just sleeping. But he could never wake up.

He struggled to process the information, to wrap his head around the events that had unfolded. All he could think of were the doctor's words; "We were too late. I'm sorry, but we couldn't save him."

_Too late_. He had been too late. He couldn't save him.

He sank to his knees, and cried in the same way as he had cried on the day he was born into the cruel world.

Antonio shot up out of bed. The duvet had been discarded at some point during the night and the under sheets were twisted around him, holding him down on the mattress like shackles. He untangled himself, ran to the toilet and threw up. "Mierda," he choked out between the retches. It felt like he was being punched in the stomach repeatedly and the acid was fire, burning his throat.

Finally, when he was beginning to think he had lost his body weight in vomit, it stopped. He was left with an empty stomach and a pounding in his head. He felt like a human gong. Every sound, even the hushed creak of an opening door, reverberated in his eardrums painfully. It was like there was a private heavy metal concert going on in his small apartment.

He staggered into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of something cooking. A half-naked Francis stood at his stove, flipping pancakes like the expert pastry chef he was. "Bonjour, mon petit lève-tard!" he yelled (or Antonio thought he did) as a peppy greeting. He swore as some pancake mixture spattered in the pan, hitting his bare chest.

"Tranquilo, por favor…" Antonio whispered desperately. He grabbed a stool and carried it over to the island, not wanting to drag it across the floor and aggravate the angry thumping in his skull.

"How is the hangover?" the unwelcome flatmate asked in a too-cheerful voice. It was as if he took pleasure in his friend's pain.

"I feel like I was swallowed by el diablo and spat into the fires of hell," he replied. He winced as Francis set a plate of pancakes in front of his. _So loud_, he thought, and flinched again. Even his thoughts made his head feel worse.

"They're not as good as mon cher Mathieu's, but then again, no one makes pancakes like him. Not even the fabulous _moi!_" Francis chuckled. The sweet smell of strawberries wafted into Antonio's nostrils, and he couldn't resist. He could keep it down if he had enough willpower, right? "Although," the blonde added as he nibbled delicately at his own plate, "Mathieu would have them drowning in maple syrup if he had cooked them. Somebody needs to tell him that you _can_ have too much of a good thing."

Antonio was in no mood to talk, for once in his life. He had the hangover from hell, his stomach was rumbling in protest at the gourmet breakfast and he had dreamt of that life-changing night once again. He hadn't had that dream in years, but it had returned once again to haunt him. He most certainly didn't need it back. Or did he? It was a harsh reminder of what could happen to Lovino and it served to make his resolve that much stronger. It wouldn't happen again, not if he had anything to do with it. Still, he didn't want it coming back any time soon.

"Well, you are a ray of sunshine this beau matin," Francis grumbled as he took Antonio's plate from him and started to wash up.

"Why are you here?" Antonio asked quietly as he took the drying cloth. His friend looked at him in mock offence.

"You do not want me here?" he cried. "Je plaisante. Really though, you were _très ivre _last night, you know?"

"I couldn't have been that drunk…"

"You grabbed some poor boy while we were waiting for a taxi and demanded he hand over the flying mint bunny."

"Oh." What could he say to that? He couldn't believe he had so readily lost his inhibitions. He had probably scarred the unsuspecting boy. If only he could remember who it was, then he could apologise if they ever crossed paths again. Then again, he supposed he would know him when he bumped into him and the boy made a break for it, if that ever happened.

"Oui. Gilbert and I decided it would be best if one of us stayed the night, and since I was the most sober between us, it fell to me." He said no more, but the implications of his words were as plain as the nose on his face.

"I wasn't going to try anything," Antonio replied, annoyed. "Do you think I don't know better?"

"Mon ami, I know you wouldn't do anything _now_," Francis said, trying to patch things up. "But you were so drunk last night, we couldn't be sure. You started talking about Marcos in the bar, and we…we just didn't know. We were worried. Can you let us worry about you?"

"Sí," he sighed. "Gracias." He knew he was lucky to have friends like Francis and Gilbert; they had stuck with him through thick and thin ever since the trio had met on their first day of school. They were always getting up to juvenile mischief (more so Gilbert) and when they were older, they gradually earned the name "The Bad Touch Trio". Who came up with it, he wasn't sure, but it caught on quickly. It certainly worked. Gilbert was the rebel, Francis was the pervert, and Antonio was… Actually, he was a little unsure of where he fitted in. It always confused him when people he knew from school yelled it to him as he sat on the park swings, surrounded by laughing children. Maybe it was because he stuck out like a sore thumb there.

They had been there when he needed them most, and for that, he was eternally grateful.

"That's what friends are for," Francis smiled.

He was about to reply, but was stopped by his churning stomach. "I knew I shouldn't have eaten those pancakes," he groaned as he covered his mouth to stop his breakfast from making reappearances on his kitchen floor. He turned and ran to the bathroom as though his life depended on it.

"I will even hold your hair back as you are sick, because that is the kind of friend I am," the begrudging Frenchman muttered to himself as he followed the sound of heaving retches. "Mon Dieu, I am never letting him drink again!"

Lovino was looking forward to a day of quiet after the eventful week. Well, it was really just one event playing over in his mind, and that was his less than pleasant meeting with a certain Spaniard. He stood with his glass of orange juice in hand, ignorant of the world around him as he wallowed in his thoughts. He didn't hear the padded footsteps or see his yawning grandfather join him in the homely kitchen.

"Ciao, Lovino~!" Roma stretched his arms above his head and drew the words out in a rather annoying fashion. Lovino nodded in acknowledgement at the older man, slightly irritated at having his thinking process interrupted. "A little birdy told me that your brother has gotten himself a boyfriend!"

"What about it?" he asked casually, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. His grandfather could gossip like an old housewife sometimes.

"I would ask you to tell me about him, but Feli just couldn't stop talking about him last night. I think I must know his life history by now," he chuckled. "Ludwig Beilschmidt, huh? He doesn't really sound like the kind of person Feliciano would consort with."

"He's not that bad," Lovino replied in an even tone. He felt like he had to defend his brother's choices, even if he questioned them sometimes himself.

"I know, I trust your brother," was the answer. The younger felt anger brewing in his stomach. Was he trying to say that he trusted Feliciano, but not _him_? He had hoped that was behind them by now. He didn't reply and didn't care when the silence started to feel awkward.

"So, how have you been? Have you been doing anything interesting recently?" Roma asked, trying to drum up some kind of conversation. It didn't really matter if wasn't particularly riveting; anything would be better than the quiet that seemed to fall between him and his oldest grandson nearly every time they ended up in a room together without Feliciano.

"School is keeping me busy," Lovino said, draining the last of his orange juice. "I guess that's better than sitting around, doing nothing."

"Sì, it is." The older man searched for something else to say. What were teenage boys interested in nowadays? Sex? No, he had had that conversation once before, and he didn't want it again. Even the silence was better than that. "Your new counsellor-"

"Nonno, I don't want to talk about that. Non è importante." Lovino cut his grandfather off before he got trapped in some conversation about himself, his feelings and God knows what else. He didn't want that so early in the day. So maybe it was half eleven; it was early by his standards.

"It is important, my boy! You are important, you understand? All family is important to me. Because sometimes family is all you have."

"Don't remind me," he replied gruffly. He didn't want to remember the day that he and Feliciano had turned up on their mysterious grandfather's doorstep. If he had been older at the time, then maybe he could have said something against it, but even then it would probably have been useless. He knew he should be grateful, and he was at first. He probably still was, deep down, but things had changed since then. He now resented the fact that if he were to leave the house there and then, for good, he would have nowhere to go and not a penny to his name. His social circle was small; he really only had his family to turn to.

Not that he had anything against his family. Not that he wanted to leave.

Maybe he just wanted to be a little bit more independent. He wished his grandfather could trust him a little more. That was it.

"You say that like it is a bad thing!" Roma laughed, a little too loudly.

"Cheh."

Roma turned to face his grandson, and placed his hands on his shoulders, holding him in place. "Lovino, I don't know if I tell you this enough, but I am very proud of you. Molto orgoglioso. You have grown into a fine young man, and I love you and your brother very much."

Love. It was a funny thing. Lovino had been so desperate for it when he was younger, but now he knew better. It was dangerous to love something, because it could all be taken away from you so easily. He had seen what happened to people after that. He had seen it in his mother's eyes. He saw it in his grandfather's. Feliciano was exceptionally good at covering it up, but he saw it there too when his brother thought he wasn't looking. He saw it in himself when he looked in the mirror.

He had thought he had seen it in Antonio, just for a second. But he was probably imagining it.

"You look so like your mama," his grandfather continued. "You have-"

"Don't!" Lovino shouted. "I know, I know. I look just like her. So don't tell me what I already know. Per favore, just don't." He turned and fled the kitchen. Along with hurting people, he was also exceptionally good at running away.

Roma sighed. When did it become so difficult? He loved his grandsons equally; they were his world. He wondered if he had ever shown favouritism. He had never meant to. Feliciano was so talented at everything, and such a joy so be around. He was sure that if you looked up "happy" in the dictionary, the definition would be "Feliciano".

Lovino was a good boy. He tried his best to look after his brother. He tried his best to be just like him, too. But he always broke something when he cleaned, and his cooking, although it was very good for most boys his age, just wasn't as delicious as Feliciano's. It wouldn't hurt if he would shift his efforts towards becoming friendlier.

And Lovino looked so like his Camilla, it hurt to look at him at times, especially when his personality was the exact opposite of hers.

Perhaps he had been leaning in Feliciano's direction from the beginning and his other grandson had picked up on that. But there was no use dwelling on it; there had been a breakdown in communication between him and Lovino, and despite his best efforts to fix it, it seemed like that ship had sailed a long time ago.

Lovino often tripped whilst running up the stairs, but he didn't stop to marvel at the accident-free dash this time. He closed the bathroom door as quietly as he could. He didn't want his grandfather suspecting anything. He hated being reminded of the similarities between his mother and himself. He wasn't her, and she wasn't him. He was just a shitty replacement.

If he had never been born, she would probably still be here.

He tried to be conspicuous as he felt around in his grandfather's toiletry bag until he found what he was looking for: the razor. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't help it. He had so much frustration pent up inside, so much stress, hurt, and so many other emotions he couldn't put a name to. He wasn't going to talk about them. He wasn't going to write them down. How else could he release his tensions?

_Just bleed it out._

The blade bit into his skin and he watched the trickle of blood with a grim sense of satisfaction. He couldn't cut too deep, or people would notice. He made _that_ mistake once before, and he wasn't about to do it again. He hissed in pain as he pushed the razor down a little harder, but it felt good. He guessed he was just a sadist.

There were already scars running up the length of his forearm, most of them faded to a silvery pink colour. He hadn't cut himself in a while, mainly because he hated the feeling of guilt he got after. He was just waiting for the day when it went too far and there was no going back. He stared at one scar in particular; it wasn't quite as faded as the others. If he ran his fingers over it, he would feel that it was slightly raised. Sometimes it itched horribly and he would resist the need to scratch until it bled. It was a little warning that he tried his best to heed, and most of the time he did.

He just needed this now.

Sometimes he had nightmares and when he woke up, he was paralyzed with fear. He just lay there, with the terrifying images flashing in front of his wide eyes. Those were the times when the need to hurt was at its greatest. The pain was better than the crippling terror he felt when he relived that night in his dreams.

"Lovi~! Are you alright?"

"Shitshitshit," he cursed under his breath when he heard Feliciano's concerned voice from outside the bathroom door. "I'm fine!" he tried to keep his voice casual as he washed and dried the offending weapon. He gave his arms a quick clean, ignoring how it stung. He knew well enough to keep a few emergency plasters on his person and he slapped them on the shallow wounds. A quick tug of his sleeves to cover up what he had done, and he left the room.

"You were in there for a while," Feliciano said as he fretted over his older brother.

"Va bene, Feli," Lovino replied. He hated making his brother worry like this. It was because of his brother that he had stopped hurting himself so much. Someone like Feliciano didn't deserve the hurt, and he knew that the boy had already been hurt too many times before.

"If you say so," he mumbled. "Oh, fratello! You know what's next week, right?" Lovino sometimes had to stop and admire his brother's inability to focus on one thing for too long; he had the attention span of a toddler at times.

"It's your birthday," he answered. Was there something else that he had forgotten about?

"Esattamente!" Feliciano cried out joyfully. "And I've asked Ludwig over to spend the day! Do you mind?"

"It's _your_ birthday," Lovino grimaced. Damn, a day with the macho potato was not his idea of fun. If he spent the day in the kitchen, then maybe he could avoid unwanted confrontation.

"I asked Kiku too," the little Italian babbled. "But he said something about a gaming marathon. So it'll be just me, you and Ludwig! Doesn't that sound great?"

"Yeah…" he answered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which wasn't much. He didn't mind Kiku. He liked how the boy didn't feel the need to speak. Out of all of Feliciano's friends, Kiku was the one that Lovino liked best. He wasn't against the company of that punk, Arthur, either. He always felt a little sympathy for Arthur. Everywhere he went he was followed by Alfred F. Jones, a loud-mouthed American with a hero complex. He wondered how Arthur didn't go mad.

He wasn't really listening to his brother's many lofty plans for the next weekend, until he said, "You know, Ludwig told me a while ago that his older brother had moved back recently! Maybe we'll get to meet him too!"

"No!" He almost yelled. One German was bad enough- he didn't need a potato bastard number two in his house! Instead, he said, "Feli, how about I do all the cooking for you and Ludwig? You can have some time alone; you'll have more fun without me hanging around."

"That's not true Lovi! Ludwig likes you too," Feliciano protested. Lovino nearly exploded with laughter- if Ludwig felt anything towards him, it was not feelings of friendship.

"It's not a problem. I want to cook for you! I'll even make you a cake, yeah? Suona bene?" he pushed desperately.

"But I-"

"Look," he interjected. "The truth is, I would feel very awkward if it were just the three of us. I don't want to be the one who comes between you and your boyfriend. I want to treat you for the day! You don't have to do anything; I'll take care of it all. Cooking and cleaning is my department for the day. You just…relax with the p- _Ludwig_." Lovino held his breath, hoping his brother would drop the issue.

"You already do so much for me, fratello. But if that's how you really feel, then I guess it's okay," Feliciano frowned. "But you can join us whenever you feel like it!"

"You know it," Lovino grinned. He felt much better now that he knew he wouldn't be forced to spend the day being an almighty cock block. His relief was almost visible as he wandered off to the front room, where the piano was.

Feliciano, on the other hand, was decidedly less happy than his big brother. Lovino had lied when he said he was fine, and he had lied yesterday too when he said that he didn't care about hurting his new counsellor's feelings. He was more observant than anyone gave him credit for, and he wasn't a child, despite what his nonno and fratello seemed to think. He hated it when Lovino pretended like everything was okay when it was so obviously not okay in the slightest, because it made him feel useless. He felt like he could only stand and watch as his brother retreated further into a castle with strong, towering walls that nobody could breach.

Didn't Lovino understand? He had been through the same things as his brother. It didn't have to be like this. If he would just talk to someone then it could all be so much better. What did he think all those counsellors were for? He didn't often feel angry, but it really annoyed him when he saw how stupid his older, supposedly more sensible, brother could be. Above all, it was his own weakness that angered him.

Well, what was the use in wasting his time, worrying? It hurt, but Feliciano knew that he couldn't help Lovino. He just hoped that someone who could help would come along before it was too late.

**Et voila! You've probably all guessed who Marcos is by now. Probably. Let me know your thoughts?**

**Thanks to my beta, Lilypad the Fourth, and to my reviewers and to all those who added this to their alerts/favourites! I get the warm fuzzies when I read all your comments. I have never wanted to hug a bunch of strangers so much in my life! You're all amazing, the lovely lot of you. My family keep asking my why I'm smiling so much- what, am I not usually happy? The next update may be a little late, but bear with me!**

**Translations:**

**Bonjour, mon petit lève-tard- Good morning, my little sleepy head**

**Tranquilo, por favour- Quiet, please**

**El diablo- The devil**

**Mon cher- My dear**

**Je plaisante- I'm joking**

**Très ivre- Very drunk**

**Non è importante- It's not important**

**Molto orgoglioso- Very proud**

**Va bene- It's fine**

**Esattamente- Exactly**

**Suona bene- Sound good**

**Reviews are love :3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine! If it was…. Ohonhonhon….**

* * *

**Chapter Four- It's Over, Bastard!**

It was an odd thing when you ended up with friends you never meant to have. Lovino hung about with Feliciano because he didn't want to be alone during the school day; Ludwig was part of the group because Feliciano gave him no choice - the two were practically attached at the hip, with no major objection on Ludwig's part. Kiku was friends with Ludwig, and so he was coerced into the circle; Alfred liked to argue about video games with Kiku and wherever Alfred went, a reluctant Arthur was not far behind.

Feliciano was at the centre of the group and was pretty much the glue that held them all together. It was true that without Feliciano, the other five probably wouldn't be together. Lovino didn't like Alfred or Ludwig, and it was a miracle that Kiku ever managed to leave his house. Alfred and Arthur were the only two that would have been friends without Feliciano.

Although Lovino merely tolerated Alfred and Ludwig, he did actually like Arthur and Kiku. He appreciated the fact that neither of them felt the need to talk constantly. Ludwig was quiet too, but Lovino wondered if that was due to Feliciano's constant chatter and the German's inability to get a word in edgeways. The six of them were a weird and unexpected circle of friends, but it somehow worked.

"Good lord, it's that man!" a horrified looking Arthur said in the middle of lunch one day. The others stared at him curiously, surprised at the unusual outburst from the normally dignified boy.

"Dude, did something happen? You wanna tell us?" Alfred prompted.

"Oh, I didn't tell you? I was out doing a bit of late night shopping last Friday night and as I walked past a bar, a drunkard grabbed me and started yelling in my ear." He explained.

Kiku 'oh-ed' in wonder- you had to be brave to approach Arthur without knowing him. His hair was dyed a bright green and he had more piercings than a pin cushion. He wore tight trousers that Lovino was sure would leave him completely unable to ever be a father and t-shirts of bands that nobody had ever heard of. The guyliner he was so fond of made him look like an insomniac. It was the eyebrows that put most off; it looked like two fuzzy caterpillars had somehow found their way onto Arthur's face, just above his green eyes, and decided to stay there. His image didn't really fit with the green rabbit, pink unicorn, fairy dolls and countless other childish stuffed toys all of his friends knew decorated his bedroom, or his collection of teacups, or his addiction to tea or his upper-class English accent. He was a bit of a walking contradiction, but the public didn't know that, which was why most people gave him a wide berth when he walked around town.

"What did he say?" Ludwig asked.

"I couldn't make out a single word," Arthur said as he bit into a scone. "It was quite hard to understand anything between the sobbing. Anything I could make out was in Spanish, I think. Look, that chap over there."

Lovino stopped waiting for Arthur to drop dead (the boy's cooking was toxic to everyone apart from himself, but Lovino was still waiting for the effects of food poisoning to take hold) and looked over to where he had pointed. His eyes widened when he saw the accused- it was the bastard! Feliciano recognised him too, but he said nothing. He knew that the man could be Lovino's last hope and he didn't want to do anything that might jeopardise that.

However, Lovino made a mental note to hold this against the Spaniard. Apparently, his new counsellor was an alcoholic who would probably benefit from some counselling himself. _You drove him to the bottle_, a voice whispered nastily in the back of his head. _It was your fault; it's always your fault._

It was decided. His next counselling session was Friday. He was going to walk in there, and he would tell the bastard that he wasn't coming back ever again. He would leave and he would not look back. He would never have to talk to him ever again. They would be well and truly gone from each other's lives, and that was what was best for the both of them.

_Yes, this is for both of our sakes_, Lovino thought. So why did it feel like he was lying to himself?

* * *

"Congratulations on making it through your first week!" Yao was talking with Natalia that morning when Antonio walked in. He was about to thank him, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the death glare that Natalia was sending in his direction. If looks could kill…

"Ivan will come to his senses soon," she huffed at the effeminate Asain and walked away haughtily. The change in Yao's expression would have been hilarious, only Antonio was still checking for knife wounds after the metaphorical daggers Natalia had gave him. He had gone from 'cornered-animal' to 'child-on-Christmas-day' in a nanosecond.

"Thanks," Antonio replied weakly. Yao had run off with a promise to talk later and Antonio made his way to his office, which had brightened up considerably during the week. The grey was still there, but he had filled the shelf with colourful knick-knacks and files, and the plant in the corner wasn't so wilted after a week's watering- he even thought it might flower soon. The filing cabinet was covered in neon post-it notes (he didn't trust himself to remember anything without writing it down) and he had bought a few pictures to hang on the wall. He had always hated those stupid posters that were supposed to motivate you that were stuck up in every office when he was younger, so he was glad he hadn't resorted to them himself. A photograph of him, Francis, and Gilbert sat on the desk. On the windowsill behind his desk there was a small tomato plant he had bought on a whim.

He sat down to review his schedule for the day and felt a strange sensation in his chest when he realised when he had Lovino Vargas again. Was it nervousness, was it happiness, was it fear, or was it all three? He didn't know. The whole week had flown by without incident, except for his encounter with the Italian. He knew exactly where he had gone wrong- it didn't take a genius to work that out- and he knew exactly what he was going to do this week: he would be on time, he would apologise for last week, he would think before he spoke, he would be the professional he was supposed to be. And Lovino would forgive him, they would laugh about it and Lovino would agree to start again and everything would go exactly as he planned and everything would be great.

Life had dealt him a hard hand, but he had learnt that it was better to remain optimistic. It always worked out in books by the end, even if the main character went through some turbulent times; why would it not work out in real life?

* * *

"This is it," Lovino said to himself as he opened the door of the office. He knew what he had to do. It would be quick and painless, like ripping off a band aid. His counsellor would hardly protest; he probably hated him like the vast majority of the people he met did. He forced himself to make no eye contact as he walked into the room and sat down. No one said anything, and he wondered if the bastard was late again. He looked up and instantly regretted it. The man sat across from him, his emerald eyes regarding him in a way that Lovino had never seen before. He didn't know how to react to the intense stare he was on the receiving end of.

"I-"

"Before you say anything, I want to apologise. Will you listen?" Lovino just nodded, dumbfounded. _He_ wanted to apologise to _him_?

This was not part of the plan.

"I was really stupid last week. I'm supposed to be the professional here, but I turned up late and I was… Well, I didn't treat you right. I made assumptions I shouldn't have, and for that, I am sorry. Lo siento!"

"S-si," Lovino stuttered, finally finding his tongue. It was weird being apologised to. Normally he was the one saying sorry. And he could tell that the Spaniard meant every word he said, which was an even stranger thing. It was almost as if he wanted to start off on a new foot, as if he wanted to be friends.

Antonio breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good; Lovino had sat through the apology, accepted it (he thought so anyway) and there had been no violent outbursts on the boy's part. "One more thing," he added. "I get that you hate me, and I don't blame you… But I don't hate you."

The way Lovino looked at him made him wonder if he had suddenly sprouted a pair of wings or grown a second head; his mouth was opening and closing like a fish and his eyes were the size of plates. Did it surprise him so to learn that he wasn't hated? That must mean that he had already grown used to being shunned by society. Antonio wanted to hug him, but held himself back. _Hugging is inappropriate here_, he chided himself.

"You don't hate me," Lovino repeated. The words tasted strange in his mouth. It was a lie; of course it was a lie. But the wide smile on the man's face told him otherwise. What was he supposed to do? Thank him, break down in tears, tell him all his deepest, darkest secrets? A small part of him wanted to, but he beat it into submission.

_Don't believe it. You are Lovino Vargas. You are not your brother. You are not your mother. You are despised, you are an outcast, you are a waste of space. Who would truly like you?_

The voice in his head was his biggest enemy. It was getting harder to deny that it was right. _Feli likes me_, he thought defiantly. _I do have some friends_. There was no answer, but he was still uneasy. He had to get out of there. That was the whole idea, right? That was why he was here.

"That doesn't matter," he said quietly. "I don't care what you think about me, bastard. I didn't come here to talk about feelings. I came here to tell you I'm quitting and I'm not coming back." The silence was suffocating. He wondered if he had actually spoken the words aloud or if he had just thought them. "I'm quitting," he said again, just to make sure.

_Liarliarliar_, the voice in his head screamed.

He got up and walked to the door, ignoring the protests that rang in his ears. "It's over, bastard!" he yelled, slamming the door behind him.

That was that. He was supposed to feel better for it. And yet, he only felt worse.

* * *

How the hell had this happened again? Lovino had stormed out on him once again and he had done nothing to stop it. He only wanted to help the boy! "Muy bueno," he said through gritted teeth. He had done his best, and he could do no more.

He was completely pissed off and he couldn't explain why. He thought he had gotten over his anger problems, but this boy just messed with his head. It wasn't good for him, or anyone for that matter. Nobody needed a repeat of Antonio's teenage years.

He wouldn't go drinking again, no. Alcohol didn't mix well with anger; his father had taught him that. If his parents had done anything useful for him, it was serving as a warning. He wasn't going to turn out like them, he had sworn it. Him and Marcos both, and that had turned out just _wonderful_.

He wasn't going to be a twisted adult, bitter beyond his years. He used his mouth for talking, not his fists. Bruises, burns, beatings; they all hurt like hell.

_Don't think about it, don't remember, don'tdon'tdon't._

He settled for shredding some paper, focusing on the dull buzz. Sure, he was killing trees. It was better than killing a person.

_He was not his father._

The phone rang. Stupid, happy, cheesy ringtone. Why did he choose that? It was too cheery for him right now. He answered it, just to shut it up. "Hola."

"Antonio, dude!" Gilbert yelled down the phone. "Listen man, I have this awesome idea. Tomorrow, West…"

* * *

"You _quit?_"

"That's what I said, Feli." Lovino pinched the bridge of his nose and carried on with the task at hand: preparing dinner. "Not so loud or nonno will hear you."

"Lovino, that was stupid!" Feliciano hissed angrily. He rarely used Lovino's full name. The shock of it made Lovino look up and see the pair of honey orbs glaring at him with more anger than anyone would ever guess the small boy was capable of. He had forgotten that his brother was able to match his own bad temper at times. It was extremely lucky that Feliciano was very patient by nature; the house did not need two Lovinos.

"I can look after myself," he shot back. "I don't need that bastard's help! Not like he would have been able to do anything for me anyway."

"That's no one's fault but your own! Nobody can help you until you let them, Lovino! God knows we all try, but you just shut us out." It was weird to hear Feliciano snapping at him like this. He wondered if this was what he was like all the time.

"I'm sick of it all! I don't need anyone who gets paid to pretend they understand."

"Oh, fratello. You are so stupid sometimes!" A bitter laugh fell from Feliciano's lips as he threw the pasta into the saucepan. "And so selfish! I know what you went through; I was there. I went through the same things as you! But you don't talk to me. You don't talk to nonno. You don't talk to any of your counsellors."

Lovino was completely speechless. It had been years since Feliciano had last blown up on him like this; he couldn't even remember what it was they had fallen out over at that time. They never fought like this; obviously they had small squabbles occasionally, but Feliciano was never angry like this. The scowl on his face didn't belong there. Lovino wished he had said nothing.

"It's true!" the smaller boy persisted. "We all want to help you, but you don't let us. We are useless because you make it so. We don't understand because you don't talk to us. Lovino, we try. But you make it so hard."

And suddenly, Feliciano was the older brother. He was a silly child being reprimanded for his naughty behaviour. The shame was overwhelming, and it was even worse that he couldn't tell Feliciano that he was bang out of order, because he hadn't touched the line with a bargepole. He was right. But Lovino had long realised all the truths that had just been spoken, and he knew he was responsible for most of his own troubles. He had crossed the line years ago, and it was hard going back.

He couldn't do it.

So he didn't deny any of Felicano's truths. He continued to chop tomatoes in silence, not even stealing a few for himself. He stirred the sauce and he didn't even peek at his brother once, scared of what he would say if he did. He sat down to dinner and listened to his grandfather chat with Feliciano and gave sub-par answers when he was brought into the conversation. He washed the dishes, his grandfather dried them and Feliciano put them away. Then he went into the front room, glad to escape.

He loved playing piano for two reasons: it was easy to lose yourself in the rise and fall of the notes, and he was good at it, better than Feliciano, in fact. It was the only thing he could do better than his brother. He was proud of that.

He had never received proper lessons and he couldn't read sheet music, so he played by ear. Everything he knew he had learnt from his mother. Remembering the afternoons he had spent watching her fingers move up and down the keys at impossible speeds brought a small smile to his face. She had been brilliant; in comparison to her, he sounded like a toddler slamming his chubby hands down repeatedly on the shiny white notes.

It was odd. Normally he shunned everything that was his mother, because one memory generally brought on another painful memory that he couldn't stand to think of. The piano had always been fine, a small miracle that he was very thankful of. It was okay to love the music, because the music couldn't hurt him. The music would always be there (unless he went deaf, but he wasn't one to nit-pick), a constant presence that he welcomed.

Sometimes he hit a wrong note or messed up a chord pattern or didn't change the pedal at the right moment, but it was okay. He wouldn't be judged here. He finished playing and didn't move until the last notes of the song had faded from the air around him. A shuffle from the corner alerted him to an unannounced visitor. He didn't say anything as Feliciano sat down beside him. The piano bench creaked under their combined weights.

"That was nice."

"Grazie."

"I like hearing you play. It's like… Well, you know."

"I know."

"I shouldn't have said what I did," Feliciano said softly. "I'm sorry."

Two apologies in one day. "You don't need to say anything, Feli. You were right about everything. I should be the one saying sorry to you. I should say sorry to everyone."

"Don't be silly. Can we just both be sorry and leave it there?" There it was, the smile that not a soul could say no to.

"That sounds fair," Lovino replied, conceding defeat.

"Ve~!" His brother wrapped his arms around his waist and he allowed himself to be hugged. He tried to hide his smile, but he knew it had probably been seen.

"It's a good thing you're not like me," he thought aloud. "If you were, we wouldn't have spoken again for at least a week."

"It's not good to stay angry forever, Lovi," Feliciano hummed. "Especially not at yourself."

When did Feliciano get so wise? It seemed he had matured a little when Lovino wasn't watching. The thought of it made him a little sad. Feliciano was growing up, and he felt as though he was being left behind. He wondered if he could keep up the 'protective-big-brother' thing going for a while longer. He'd never tell Feliciano, but he liked looking after his younger brother. It made him feel needed.

And everyone likes to feel needed now and then.

* * *

**I had such a bad block going on when I wrote this. I seriously wanted to delete it all and start over at multiple points, but I didn't. Here it is, regardless, and I hope you liked it! Care to review and let me know your thoughts? Your comments make my day guys, I really appreciate them. I have muchos amor for all of you! And to my beta, thanks for making me feel ten times better about what I write. If it wasn't for all of you then I'd probably have given up halfway through this chapter. But I wouldn't do that to all you awesome people ;) Not now, not ever!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia! Someday though. But for now, I give you fluff!**

* * *

**Chapter Five- Happy Birthday**

Feliciano's excitement was starting to become annoying. The boy was bouncing off the walls, babbling utter nonsense, and now and then he would start to fret over the littlest thing. The repeating cycle was grating on Lovino's nerves. "Feli, could you calm down a bit?"

"Fratello, I can't wait! Ludwig said he'd be here around one and it's nearly one now! Oh, is the house tidy enough? I've never been to Luddy's house before, what if it's really different from here and he doesn't like it and he wants to go home and he doesn't want to be friends or go out with me anymore?"

"You know, I really don't think-"

"What if that happens? Lovi, quick! Feng shui the room!"

"You're being-"

"The whole house!" Feliciano cried. "Help me move this sofa! We only have a few minutes!"

Roma ambled into the room, drawn by the unintelligible panicked noises Feliciano was making. "What's going on?" His voice would have given one the illusion of concern, but his expression was one of pure amusement.

"Grandpa, we need more mirrors!" Feliciano wailed, distraught. "We're running out of time!"

Roma just left the room, laughing to himself. He was well used to his grandson's eccentricities. "Such a lively boy…" Lovino thought he heard him chuckle.

"_Feliciano!_" The whole house came to a standstill as the front door was flung open and an exhausted Ludwig ran to the auburn haired boy.

Feliciano, instantly forgetting the fact that he had been in the middle of a small meltdown mere seconds before, flung himself at the blonde giant. "Luddy~!" he sang happily. "I'm so happy, you're really here!"

Lovino thought that Ludwig would look a bit more cheerful about the fact he had Feliciano hanging off his neck like a small monkey, but he still looked like he had been running for his life through a warzone and he kept glancing back at the open door. "Feliciano, I tried to stop them! I tried, but I couldn't! Gott, I'm only one man! Quick, hide!"

"Luddy, you're so silly~!" Feliciano led the boy over to the sofa and made him sit down. Ludwig's blue eyes were wide and panicked. Lovino expected him to assume the foetal position and start rocking back and forth. "Nobody will understand you if you don't calm down!"

Lovino mentally slapped himself.

Somewhere outside, a car door slammed shut and an accented voice yelled "Oi, West!"

"Too late," Ludwig said in a horrified whisper. "Let me apologise in advance…"

Lovino's heart nearly stopped when he saw the three figures standing in the doorway.

* * *

"This seems a little unfair on Ludwig," Antonio said as he reluctantly turned the banged up Peugeot into a small estate, led by the said German.

"Ja, whatever. West is mein kleiner bruder. I just want to make sure he's not going to the house of some rapist." Gilbert just lay back in his seat, the picture of relaxed.

"He's lived with you for most of his life, I think he will be fine at this Feliciano's house," a bored Francis mumbled to himself.

"Then maybe I just want to wish my future brother-in-law a happy birthday," came the snappy reply.

"I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself mi amigo." Antonio was still a little annoyed even after a good night's sleep. Gilbert's invitation offered an excuse to leave the house and hopefully a decent distraction, but interrupting Ludwig's first date seemed a little cruel. Gilbert tried to play the concerned older brother, but his two best friends knew that he just really enjoyed annoying his stoic younger brother.

"Stop here!" Gilbert's crimson eyes lit up when he saw Ludwig escape into a house at the very end of the road. "Schönes haus," he said approvingly.

It _was_ a nice house, Antonio had to admit. It was a white two-story with a front garden that belonged in a catalogue; someone was obviously an avid gardener. He could catch small glances of the back garden from where he sat in the car; a set of swings, a slide and a couple of trees that seemed to have something growing on them. He wondered if they were apples. He liked apples, but not as much as tomatoes.

Gilbert climbed out of the car and yelled at the top of his lungs. "Gilbert, mon cher. I love you, but sometimes you make you want to kill you," Francis said, shaking his head at the albino's rudeness.

"Lighten up, Francey-pants!" he cackled in reply, walking towards the front door that Ludwig had left lying open in his hurry, with the blonde and the brunet in tow. "Hallo, it's the awesome me!" he announced loudly as he walked into the house, not bothering to knock- as if the inhabitants hadn't heard his earlier introduction.

"Hola!" Antonio smiled at his feet, trying not to laugh at Ludwig. He looked at the three intruders like they were responsible for the world's destruction. Or the destruction of his first date, at least. In any light, his face was one big question: "WHY?"

"Bonjour!" A cheery Francis said.

"Ciao!" A small boy who looked like sunshine chirped from the sofa.

"Bruder, I asked you not to follow me," a defeated looking Ludwig sighed.

"What the fuck?" Lovino Vargas asked no one in particular.

Antonio's feet weren't so interesting all of a sudden. He looked up to see Lovino's blurred form as he disappeared from the room at the speed of light. The others around him kept talking, the energetic Italian skipping around the room enthusiastically welcoming everyone, but all he could focus on was that _Lovino lived in this house_. He was trying to forget him, but it was just his luck that he had run straight into him.

"I'm Feliciano Vargas!" The iron grip on his hand brought him back to the real world; a small boy was crushing his hand and shaking it up and down rather eagerly. He had a curl similar to his brother, but it stuck up in a different direction. He had the friendliest face Antonio had ever seen. "Haven't I seen you in school?"

"Hola, Feliciano. I'm Antonio. It's very nice to meet you!" He would never have guessed this was Lovino's brother, the two were so different personality-wise. Maybe Lovino was swapped at birth? "Yes, I work at your school. But I hope we can be friends!" The proposition seemed a little pointless as Antonio was pretty sure the bubbly little Italian was someone who tried to befriend anything that moved.

"Luddy never said he was bringing guests with him!" Feliciano chattered, giving his boyfriend a generous hug. "Ve~! It's so nice to have you all here! My grandpa is here too, and so is my brother, Lovi! I mean, Lovino."

_Lovi_, Antonio thought. _That's very cute_.

With everyone else making themselves at home- Feliciano would make anyone feel at ease- he slipped off in the direction that Lovino had made off in. Maybe they had met for a reason. Maybe this was fate's way of trying to push the two closer together. Whatever it was, he wasn't going to let this chance go to waste; it could have been his and Lovino's last.

* * *

Lovino didn't believe in flying pigs. Pigs were not meant to fly. And strangers were not supposed to turn up at other strangers' houses; who the hell did that? It was a rather unpleasant turn of events, in Lovino's view, that the potato bastard had dragged three weirdoes into his house. Well, he did know the tomato bastard- he had never seen so many pictures of tomatoes hanging in one room than in that man's office- but he was practically a stranger. He hadn't planned on moving very far from the kitchen all day, and now he knew there was no effin' way he was leaving the room. Not if you paid him in tomatoes.

And what was a good way to get rid of a problem? He couldn't ask them to leave, however much he may have wanted to. His grandfather had a gun, but it was hidden _well_ away from his reach- not that he needed any more deaths weighing on his conscience. So he did what anyone else would. He ignored it and prayed to whoever was listening that it would go away, far, far away.

He had quit counselling to get away from the Spaniard, not to have him randomly turn up at his house. Someone up there _really_ hated him. It was a good thing he hadn't believed in luck for years.

He peered into a very cosy kitchen that smelled of herbs, spices, love and warmth through a crack in the door. Dinner in the Vargas household seemed to be a family event, judging by the big wooden table that sat in the middle of the room. Antonio smiled wistfully, remembering the earliest days of his childhood. He had never quite achieved the happiness he had lost from then, but he still believed he could get it back. Maybe one day he would have a kitchen like this.

Lovino belonged in these surroundings, it was obvious. Antonio couldn't see exactly what he was making, but he reached into cupboards and pulled things out of drawers without even looking up from whatever was in the bowl. The movements were fluid and assured; he obviously knew the place like the back of his hand. His customary cute scowl was still there, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. "Fusosososososo~!" The sight of him so at home made Antonio giggle quietly.

Unfortunately, there was evidently nothing wrong with Lovino's hearing. "Feli," he grumbled. "I've just started making the cake. I'll get nonno to call you in for the bowl when I'm done, okay? Dios mio, fifteen years old and you still beg to lick the batter."

"I'm not Feliciano," Antonio replied cheerfully, deciding that there was no use hiding now. "It's Antonio!"

Lovino's death glare wasn't quite as strong as Natalia's, but he still thought he could feel a blade poking at his flesh. "Get out of my kitchen," the furious Italian said.

"But I want to help you! Por favor, Lovi~!" he whined childishly, moving over to inspect what was in the bowl. He had never seen a cake made before; it didn't look so delicious when it was just four egg yolks heaped in with what looked like a whole tub of butter.

"Don't call me that. My name is Lovino!" he snarled. "_Lovino!_"

"Sí, it is. What can I do to help?" Baking with Lovino was much more interesting to Antonio than socialising with the others at that moment in time. He hadn't cooked in a long time, and he still felt bad for turning up at someone's house unannounced and ruining Ludwig's day with Feliciano, even if the boy had welcomed them in wholeheartedly. It was also Feliciano's birthday, apparently, and he hadn't brought a present or anything for him. The least he could do was help out.

"You are not helping me."

"Lovi, how much flour do you need?"

"Y-you bastard!" But Lovino's attempts to get rid of Antonio were pointless - he was determined to help. Admitting defeat, the boy set- or maybe slammed would be a better word- the scales and a smaller bowl in front of him. "One seventy-five grams," he sighed.

Antonio wrinkled his nose as he poured the flour into the measuring scales and it poofed up in a big white cloud. He ignored Lovino's colourful language and hummed to himself as he weighed out the right amount. Flour smelled weird, kind of like the glue he used in school when he was a child. Wasn't flour an ingredient in paste? He was about to tip the flour into the bigger bowl, but a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

"Stupid, you have to sieve the flour first or the cake mix will turn out lumpy!" A sieve was shoved in his face and Antonio had to jump back to avoid getting punched in the nose. As his habit seemed to be, Lovino had not looked to see where exactly the instrument was aimed at. Antonio managed to save his face when he leapt back, but now the bowl was in the way. He could only watch as the bowl seemed to fall in slow motion and the flour flew through the air to cover everything in a light dusting layer, a dull snow. The bowl clattered to the floor loudly.

If he had ever wished for a camera, he had never wished for one more than he was wishing at that moment. Lovino looked like a spectre, covered in the greyish white powder, and his mouth was frozen in a comical 'O' shape. His bright amber eyes stood out against his now ghostly pale face. He tried to hold in his laughter, but he just couldn't do it. He doubled over at the sight of the very angry Lovino who was swearing and gesticulating wildly.

"Bastard, that was good flour! Look at this mess! You stupid dipshit!" Antonio couldn't take him seriously when he looked like that, even though he knew he looked just as ridiculous. Tears pricked his eyes as he tried to stop the snorting noises that were coming from him. This was the kind of thing that happened in the movies, not in real life.

As timing would have it, they both bent down to pick the bowl up at the exact same moment. Their hands met, and Antonio felt heat where Lovino touched him. Lovino pulled his hand away and pouted, which he found strangely endearing. Now that they were so close, he could see that Lovino's eyes weren't as amber as he had first thought- there were flecks of hazel and green in there too. The strange thought that he could freeze the moment and stay there forever and still be happy occurred to him. But would it be enough to just look?

_Bad_, he scolded himself inwardly. He couldn't allow himself to have those kinds of thoughts about his student. _He's not your student anymore_, he remembered. He had never heard his voice sound so sly, even if was just him imagining himself speaking. _It's still bad_, he reiterated.

Lovino grabbed the bowl and moved away from Antonio so quickly he moved at a blur. He darted over to the door and tossed a broom and dustpan to the Spaniard who was still on the floor, suspended in a kind of shock. "You clean that up and I'll do the baking," he said gruffly, not meeting Antonio's gaze. He could see that the boy's cheeks were tinted pink, even through the layer of flower that covered his face.

_So cute_, Antonio thought. He didn't correct himself this time.

There was a comfortable silence as Antonio swept up the mess, tipping disastrous substance into the bin. It seemed like most of it had landed on him and Lovino rather than the floor, which was a mixed blessing. He didn't have to clean so much, but here he was, at a stranger's house with no change of clothes. It looked as though there would be another grubby layer added to his already slightly unclean car. Although, he would have been lying to himself if he said it wasn't worth it.

"What can I do now, Lovi?" he asked, hoping he was still trusted to help out.

"Two large tablespoonfuls of that." A finger pointed at a tub of chocolate powder. "Can you do that?"

"I think so," he chuckled lightly. "Oh, this can be used for hot chocolate too! I haven't had hot chocolate in so long," he observed as he heaped it into the bowl.

"It doesn't taste very nice as hot chocolate," Lovino answered. "But it's perfect for cakes."

"Lovi, it sounds like you cook a lot!" It was funny, but Lovino had stopped protesting at Antonio's use of his shortened name. He still mumbled "bastard" here and there, but Antonio was starting to think that he used that name as both an insult and an affectionate term. And his scowl wasn't one of anger, but simply a look of concentration. Maybe that was just wishful thinking, but it was a nice theory.

"I want to be a chef when I'm older." The words were so quiet, Antonio wasn't sure if he had really heard them. But Lovino's blush darkened and he chewed his lower lip a little nervously, so he must have spoken them. Antonio got the feeling that it was the most personal admission he had ever made to any of his counsellors; no, he wasn't his counsellor now. That made him sadder than it should have.

"I'm not as good as Feliciano," he continued. "Feliciano is better at most things. B-but I really like cooking. I wouldn't mind it…being a chef."

"I think you'd be very good at it," Antonio smiled kindly at him. The gruff reply was lost in the loud whirr of the electric mixer, but he could tell what it was regardless.

"_Shut up, bastard."_ How like Lovino.

Talking with Lovino was easy, he found. Sure, he had a very foul mouth and his answers were mostly short and filled with insults aimed to drive people away, but whether he was aware of it or not, Antonio could read Lovino just by looking at his face. A little blush here and there, a frown, a badly concealed smile (just the tilt of the corners of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless), and his eyes. His eyes said everything his words did not.

His eyes were beautiful, really. And once more, he forgot that those kinds of thoughts were strictly off-limits.

It seemed to him that the cake had been cooked in the blink of an eye. All too soon, it was put into the oven and the job of cleaning up was the main priority. He didn't mind it as much as usual for some reason. It wasn't half as boring when he was enjoying a conversation with Lovino, even though he was doing most of the talking himself.

"Lovi~! Can I decorate the cake? Please?" he begged as the Italian took the sponge cake from the oven and the scent of sweet chocolate wafted over them. He imagined that it was what heaven smelled like. Now that it was baked, it was starting to look very tasty indeed. It was only right that he use his artistic flair to lend some fabulousness to it, as Francis would say.

He took the small grunt he was answered with as one of approval. Ready to unleash his untapped ability, he pulled the lid off a small tub of syrup coated cherries and stuck his tongue out in concentration as he tried to think of an inspiring pattern to arrange them in.

"Hang on, idiota. You need to ice it first!" Lovino had learned from his earlier mistake and he watched very carefully as he handed the icing sugar and the bowl to Antonio. "One hundred grams and a small teaspoon of water."

"Is it chocolate icing?" Antonio asked hopefully. Most guys didn't understand the obsession girls had with chocolate, but Antonio wasn't just _any_ guy. He completely understood the almost universal female love for the delicious snack; how could you ever have enough chocolate?

_This is probably how Matthew thinks of maple syrup_, he thought to himself.

"It is," Lovino replied. Antonio sung to himself as he measured out the correct amount and very carefully passed it to Lovino, watching out for any wayward sieves. His mouth watered as the boy tipped what seemed to be half of the chocolate powder in with the sugar and yet again, more butter. It was a shame that all the best things were bad for you. Although it was all the bad things that made it so damn good.

Lovino started to mix it together and he made a grab for the electric mixer. "I want to mix it!" he pouted childishly, making sure he was heard over the loud utensil.

"No way!" Lovino manoeuvred the bowl out of his reach, acting in just an immature manner as Antonio. "Bastard, you'll make it spill again!"

Antonio suddenly had a brilliant idea, a true light bulb moment. He moved himself behind Lovino and placed his hands over the smaller pair of hands, so they both clutched at the beater. "W-what the fuck are you doing?" Lovino squeaked indignantly.

"Now we can both mix it~!" he sang happily. He was very proud of his quick thinking- whoever said he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box? On second thought, maybe it wasn't such a good idea. He snapped back into reality realised this was a slightly more compromising position than had first occurred to him. He wondered if Lovino could feel his heart starting to beat faster. How could he not? He was pressed right against the small back. He should be the responsible adult and move away before things got awkward, or worse, someone walked in on them. Even worse than that, _Francis_ walked in on them.

He stayed where he was. Lovino grumbled to himself, but didn't put up a big fight.

The rest of the cake was done in silence. It should have been awkward, but Antonio couldn't get rid of the smile that was plastered across his face. It was wrong to feel so happy, but he couldn't help it. Lovino didn't look half as grumpy as he had in the beginning either. He wasn't scowling anymore; instead his features had softened into a neutral expression. His face didn't give anything away, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were bright and the sunlight from the window danced across them, making them sparkle. He looked so at peace, Antonio felt a stab when it brought up memories of another face that was still so familiar to him.

_Marcos._

But he couldn't think like that, not now. Not when he was so happy. "Lovino," he said lightly. "Can I ask you something?"

"What do you want?" The use of his full name made Lovino suspicious.

Antonio thought very carefully about how to go about asking the question, lest Lovino get angry and he become responsible for ruining a great afternoon. "I was just wondering… Would you maybe consider coming back for counselling? I'm just asking! You don't have to, if you don't want to…" He laughed weakly as he waited for the reply.

Lovino pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, leaving Antonio completely unable to tell what he was thinking. "You _want_ me to come back?" he finally said.

"Only if that's what you want. I would like it, but… It was just something to think about. You can forget about it, I won't mind." The last words were a lie; the afternoon had been the most fun he had had in a long time, and he didn't want it to be the last. How else could he ever see Lovino on a regular basis without looking weird or gate crashing Ludwig's dates? He prayed the boy felt the same way, but he didn't hold his breath.

"I'll think about it." It was more than the Spaniard had hoped for. He expected a slew of insults aimed his way, or something he dreaded even more, silence. Something was better than nothing. He wanted to fist pump the air, but decided that was not a good idea.

"We should get this cake to Feli," Lovino said. He didn't say any more as he carried the cake out into the sitting room, forgetting his earlier resolve to stay in the kitchen. As Antonio followed him out, his body was light; he thought he would be able float out of the room that now smelled of flour, chocolate, sugar, happiness and a hint of potential.

* * *

Lovino couldn't think properly as he set the cake down in front of a beaming Feliciano. He didn't protest when his brother launched himself toward him with the force of a small missile and squeezed tight. "Did you make things right?" Feliciano said in a whisper that was meant only for him.

"I don't know," he answered.

Images of the afternoon danced around his mind. Baking with Antonio. The accidental brushing of hands as they both reached to clear up the mess. Antonio's hands over his. Antonio's arms around him; the closest he had got to anyone (except Feliciano) in years.

He had told Antonio about how he wanted to be a chef. What had made him do that? He had let himself think for one second that the man could actually possibly care about him, and suddenly that little dream he held so dear was shared with someone else.

_He doesn't care_, he corrected himself. It was nothing more than a Freudian slip, that was all it was.

"You are very quiet, mon chou," a voice cooed in his ear. "Such a pretty face, I am sure you have the voice of an angel."

"Get the fuck away from me, wine bastard," he growled at the blonde who was getting too close for comfort. Francis, that was the man's name. Wine bastard sounded much better. He instantly disliked the Frenchman and his distaste grew when the man let loose the most perverted giggle he had ever heard. Was he supposed to look _attractive_ when he covered his mouth with his hand? He looked like a hairy schoolgirl, what with his weirdly long hair and stupid stubble.

"So much passion," he sighed.

Lovino hoped his death glare contained enough passion for the bastard.

"Francis, get your ass over here!" the albino (Gilbert, was it? Not anymore; potato bastard number two) yelled at his friend. "Okay, Feli! The awesome me is going to sing happy birthday to you now, so get ready! These two arschlochs will back me up." Francis just laughed and Antonio smiled, both of them used to Gilbert's need to take the stage.

He cleared his throat, and Lovino's poor ears were assaulted by the worst rendition of 'Happy Birthday' ever. The German couldn't sing for shit, and the two dimwits backing him up weren't so great either. Neither the wine bastard nor the Spaniard were particularly awful, but they were so out of time it made the song sound like a mix of dying cats and a monster with a sore throat- Gilbert screeched loudly rather than singing. By the end of it, he was sure his ears were bleeding and even the ever-cheerful Feliciano looked put out.

"Ve… That was, um, kind of you," was the best Feliciano could think to say.

"We should eat now," Ludwig said firmly before his brother could offer to sing again. A soft smile played on his lips when he saw how his Feliciano perked up considerably at the mention of food. The cake looked truly delicious, he had to admit, even if he preferred potatoes to sweet food. Even just looking at it, he could taste the chocolate.

"This looks wonderful!" Feliciano gushed. He blew out the candles and sat up, looking very pleased with himself. "I made a wish! Luddy, do you want to know what I wished for?"

"You're not supposed to tell anyone." The look on Feliciano's face was one of enlightenment as Ludwig informed him of what he had thought was a fact known worldwide.

"But I tell fratello and nonno every year, and it always comes true!" he cried in shock. The only reason for this was that Feliciano wished for the same thing every year, so Roma and Lovino were always well prepared.

"Tell me what you wished for Feliciano," Ludwig sighed. Anything to keep the smile he so loved on his boyfriend's face.

Lovino knew what was coming before Feliciano even opened his mouth. "Ve~! I wished we would have pasta for dinner~!"

No comment was passed on the air-headed statement. Lovino sat deep in thought as the people around him talked in lively voices. He ignored the glances that Antonio kept sending his way, even though he wanted to look.

No, of course he didn't want to look.

His grandfather came in some time later and announced that it was pasta for dinner. Feliciano's cheers of celebration provided him with the chance to slip out of the room almost completely unnoticed. He was frozen on his bed and only remembered to eat when Feliciano came up with a plate of pasta, informing him that everyone was leaving.

"You should say goodbye to Antonio," he urged him. He just took the plate and mumbled in thanks.

_You want to see him one more time_, the voice in his head told him. _But you're scared you'll ruin in all._

Why was the voice always right?

* * *

**This ended up so looong! Almost 5000 words, not counting my ramblings! *proud of herself***

**I haven't written very much fluff before, so I was worried it would turn out like a rom-com or something. But I had a lot of fun writing this chapter :D I love chocolate cake! I nearly always bake for people's birthdays because I hate getting people presents that they're never going to use. Also because I'm not one to pass up on a chance to stuff my face! I've never had any disastrous happenings like Lovi and Toni though, except for this one time when I used the wrong flour XP Have you guys ever made anything that ended up looking like England cooked it?**

**At the risk of repeating myself, thanks to all those who reviewed and added this to their alerts! I would love to present a ginormous cake to each and every one of you! And thanks to Lilypad the Fourth as well, enjoy the coconut cake! ;D**

**Translations:**

**Mein kleiner bruder- My little brother**

**Schönes haus- Nice house**

**Mon cher- My dear**

**Mon chou- The French use this in the same way as they would use 'mon cher' but it literally means 'my cabbage' XD**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine.**

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**Chapter Six- How Do You Know**

Why had it all stopped? The boy lying on the floor couldn't understand what was going on. Why wasn't time moving forward? His young mind tried to go over the events; he tried to stop him, there had been an unearthly scream, and suddenly, it had all stopped.

_Move, damn you, move._

And it did. He could hear the cogs and gears of his mind creak and groan as he slowly began to see what had transpired.

Laughter that rang like a bell. The promise of the most delicious pasta yet. His younger brother. The doorbell. A mask. Being pushed into a room. Laughter turned to tears. Shouting. The gleam of a blade. An unknowing hand stretching out in desperation.

His small, perfect world, crashing down before his eyes.

"This is your fault," the stranger told him.

Lovino was very sorry for the unforgivable deed he had done.

* * *

The dream wasn't as bad as it could have been. Rather than feeling terror course through his veins, Lovino just felt sadness and regret. His pillow was damp in places; he had been crying in his sleep again. He hated crying, but the truth was that he was just as big a baby as Feliciano. He was just a bit better at hiding it.

_Another thing I can do better than Feli_, he thought bitterly. Feliciano practically waved his heart in the air for all to see, but he kept his as far away from his sleeve as he possibly could. That is, he normally did. But it had slipped out yesterday with Antonio.

"Shit," he hissed. He remembered it all now. Last night he had been on autopilot, going about his business as though he were a robot and not a person at all. But now it was all coming back to him. What was he thinking? He couldn't believe he had been willing to spend the afternoon with the Spaniard. The kitchen was supposed to be his safe haven and in there, his word was law. But the stupid man had invaded his privacy. And he had let him?

He was such an idiot.

What was worse, he had actually _enjoyed_ himself. It was the best fun he had had in years and now he wanted, no, he craved more. More time with Antonio, more impromptu confessions, more feeling, more everything. He had lived for all this time suspended in a state of numbness, but Antonio had coaxed him out of it. He had seen what could be and he wanted it so bad it hurt.

_You don't deserve it, you murderer._

No, that wasn't what held him back. What held him back was the overwhelming fear. He was scared of what Antonio would do if he ever found out about that day. The threat of rejection.

But didn't Antonio know everything? Lovino didn't think his file went into the true details of what had happened. There was a good chance he didn't know.

_He can't know_, Lovino told himself. He sounded far surer than he felt. If he did know… Had he accepted him? His heart soared at the thought of it.

Hang on a second. His heart _soared_? He was starting to sound like a lovesick teen. But that was ridiculous! It was absurd! He remembered how Antonio had stared into his eyes the day before and all the anger had dissipated. It felt like he had been struck by lightning when he accidently brushed against the other's hand. Being surrounded by Antonio's arms had made him feel safe. He hadn't realised he had been holding his breath until the strong arms were gone and he felt cold, but the butterflies in his stomach remained.

"You'd think I've fallen in love with him," he said offhandedly, climbing out of bed. But that was stupid.

As he pulled back the curtains, he was surprised to see that the weather was a lot sunnier than what it should have been for the middle of October. Usually it was rainy, windy and miserable, but the sun was high in the sky and the birds were conversing amongst themselves in happy voices. A draft of warm air wafted into the room as he opened the window. It was practically winter; what was with this unseasonable pleasantness?

"Fratello~" Feliciano bounded into the room, carrying an old fashioned looking camera with him. "It's summer again! Isn't it nice? I sure missed the sun!" Lovino wasn't sure if he agreed; he _liked_ autumn. Summer was too hot and the heat tended to make him more disagreeable than usual. Autumn was prettier than summer too, with all the beautiful colours and he liked helping his grandfather out with his business too; Roma ran a nursery on the outskirts of town and September to the start of November meant harvest time. Harvest time meant free tomatoes, and he did love tomatoes.

Feliciano opened Lovino's wardrobe and rustled through it noisily, finally flinging some random articles of clothing at the boy who knew better than to ask and was just going along with his brother. "I was going to take pictures today for an art project. You can help me out~! It'll be fun, I promise. And the weather is perfect! How lucky~"

"Okay, I'll do it," Lovino sighing, supposing it was better than sitting inside all day. He had homework, but it wasn't important. "Just let me get my breakfast and stuff."

"Sì! Ve~" Feliciano dropped down on the bed, swinging his legs and humming a happy tune to himself.

"Feli, you have to leave," Lovino said slowly. Feliciano tilted his head in an unspoken question. "Are you going to watch me get dressed?" Lovino asked pointedly. The younger boy left the room chattering about how he had to ask his grandfather how to work the camera.

Lovino looked down to see what his brother had thrown at him to wear. In his hands were a pair of pinky, frilly shorts (why they were in his wardrobe, he had no idea. He suspected his grandfather had something to do with it) and a t-shirt he hadn't worn since he was a small boy; it had a very happy looking Thomas the Tank Engine on it. It occurred to him that he should probably spring clean his room.

Another reason he hated warm weather was that he had to wear t-shirts, and that meant everyone could see his scars. He didn't mind as much when it was just Feliciano and his grandfather looking, even if they kept looking at him with sympathy, but he hated how people would stare when he was in town. What, had people never seen scars before?

It was true that they were ugly and unnatural looking. Maybe he would stare at them too, had it been someone else with the scars and not him. He wondered if Antonio would judge him as well. It hurt to think of the Spaniard pushing him away. That was what _he_ normally did to people. Did it hurt them when he pushed them away as much as it hurt when he thought of Antonio pushing him away?

But why did it hurt? He hardly knew Antonio. They had had one proper conversation. He had spent one afternoon with him. They weren't close.

_But you could be_, the voice whispered seductively. _If he could ever accept you._

That wasn't very likely to happen, no matter how much Lovino wanted it to. Not that he did want it to! No, he didn't need anyone but himself. He had never needed a counsellor before, and this was no different. There was no reason for that to suddenly change.

He opened his window as wide as it would go and leaned out, inhaling the fresh air. It was too warm for a hoody, so he accepted that he was going to have to wear the plain t-shirt he had pulled on. Beckoned by Feliciano's calls, he made his way to the kitchen that still smelled sweet from the previous day's baking.

"This was grandpa's present to me." Feliciano was examining the camera in a way that made Lovino think it might not last too long- the shaking and tapping it was being subjected to probably wasn't good for it. Lovino recognised the camera from when they were children and he was sure that his grandfather had bought it long before they were born. In fact, it had probably been a heavy fixture in his mother's childhood. Roma used to love taking pictures, but he hadn't taken the camera out for a long time. Feliciano was the artistic one, so he supposed he would be able to put it to good use- that is, if he didn't break it before he could even take one picture.

"I think you should try to be more careful with that," he warned.

"Hm?" Feliciano looked up from what he was doing. "Oh, the camera! Nonno told me this camera travelled around the world with him when he was younger. He had it when he met nonna~! Isn't that interesting? He used to take all kinds of pictures with nonna, although he didn't say _what_ kinds…" Lovino got the picture; the camera was not breaking any time soon.

Feliciano was in a hurry to get started and pushed Lovino into the bathroom as soon as he had eaten his breakfast, practically assaulting him with the toothbrush. He was only trying to help, but he was left feeling slightly dejected when Lovi yelled at him to leave him alone. He suspected the hot weather had something to do with it. He knew his brother was actually very self-conscious about the scars that decorated his arms. He couldn't help noticing that one looked fresher than the others, but it would put his brother in a bad mood if he said anything about it.

Funnily enough, Lovino wasn't as grumpy this morning as he usually was, though it was only people who knew him well that would be able to tell that. He smiled to himself when he realised that it most likely had everything to do with the afternoon he had spent with Antonio. What had happened between the two? Normally Lovi would throw most straight out of his kitchen when he was cooking, but there had been nothing out of the ordinary (the loud swears that could be occasionally heard were the norm) and he hadn't said anything when he sat with everyone afterwards, not even when Francis tried to get him to play Just Dance. Feliciano had hoped he would join in, but he was apparently dead to the world and hadn't even heard.

And then, _then_, there were the looks that he kept giving Antonio. At first he had thought Lovi was just admiring Toni's ass as he danced with Francis, but he had looked very conflicted rather than appreciative of the spectacle in front of him. He would ask what had happened, but he wasn't very likely to get an answer from his brother. Things would explain themselves, he was sure. Until then, he would be happy to wait.

Lovino joined Feliciano on the porch and Feli took it as his cue to drag his older brother off to wherever they were headed to; he didn't really know himself what he wanted to take pictures of, so he badgered Lovi for ideas instead. "Do you have a particular theme in mind?" Lovino asked, trying to sound like he knew a thing or two about photography.

"Ve~ I don't really know… Maybe nature? Oh, but there aren't any baby animals around now. That's a shame." Feliciano, for someone so artistic, was drawing a real blank at the moment. It rarely ever happened, but when it did, he always took a walk to clear his head and maybe find some inspiration. He loved people watching in particular; he could sit on a park bench for hours on end just watching people walk by. One time he had thought he saw his principle- whom he had thought was a woman for the longest time- walking hand in hand with a much taller platinum haired man who had a funny nose. But he was sure that the woman following them with a menacing aura around her was just a figment of his imagination…

"I haven't been to the park in such a long time," Lovino remarked. The two brothers smiled as a wave of nostalgia washed over them.

"Do you remember how mamma would take us here after school every Friday?" Feliciano smiled.

Lovino nodded in affirmation. "She would buy us ice-cream. The first time you bought your own ice-cream, you were in such a rush to get back that you dropped it halfway and you had to go back for another one. Then it took you ten minutes to walk back from the van with your new ice-cream and it was starting to melt all over your hand. Mamma asked you how it tasted and you burst into tears."

Feliciano laughed at the memory; looking back, it was pretty funny. _"I miss her,"_ he nearly said when he thought of how she had comforted him about the ice-cream. But saying that would just make Lovino sad and he loved his brother most when he was happy, which was a rare enough thing. He wouldn't be the one to ruin it.

"Lovi, look!" He changed the subject and pointed at a group of people who had gathered around a tree. There were a lot of excited voices coming from their direction, which piqued his curiosity.

"Probably a bunch of tree huggers holding a protest," Lovino grumbled to himself, but he too wondered what was going on. He ran after Feliciano so he could see what had grabbed everyone's attention.

The tree trunk was covered in butterflies the same colour as the golden leaves that decorated the tree's branches. He wasn't sure if it was actually a tree or just a pillar of butterflies. It seemed to constantly move as the butterflies fluttered their wings open and shut. A few stragglers flew lethargically through the air around them, like they were just floating wherever the wind carried them. It was like something out a fairy story, though it would be that much more magical if the crowd would just shut up and appreciate the sight in silence.

"It's beautiful," Feliciano said in hushed awe. The camera moved to capture the moment forever.

"Turn the flash off," Lovino reminded him, not wanting it to end. They would fly away of their own accord soon enough, which he was sure would be a wonder in itself, but he didn't want his ditzy brother scaring them away too early. So what if he liked butterflies? He was allowed to appreciate the beauty of nature now and then!

Every click of the camera was punctuated by a "Ve~" as Feli slowly moved to take pictures at different angles. At this time, the high pitched yapping of a very annoying dog could be heard coming from somewhere far away as well as the shouts of a very angry man, but that didn't seem very relevant to anyone at that time. Everyone was too busy staring at the tree and asking Feli in quiet whispers if they could get copies of the photos.

Was that dog getting closer? Lovino thought it sounded louder now than it had a few seconds ago. It wasn't important, although he really did wish someone would give it a fucking biscuit or something, anything, he just wanted it to _shut the hell up_.

No, it _was_ getting closer. It was really close! He turned around and saw a ball of fur hurtling towards him, followed by a man who was looking very red in the face and shaking his cane angrily. He could only watch in growing frustration as the inevitable happened; the dog shot past the tree and the butterflies took flight. The man didn't even utter an apology as he ran by, following his hell hound.

Any complaints he had never made it past his lips. There was an explosion of rich colour as the butterflies took to the air, swirling around him and everyone else like living leaves. It should have been a little gross having insects' flapping their wings in his face, but it was one of the most beautiful things Lovino had ever seen. The air was thick with them, the sun shining down through their delicate orange wings. Feliciano was snapping picture after picture and children were cheering in delight, trying to catch the butterflies that danced so nimbly around them.

And then they were gone. The disappointment was mutual as everyone wandered off, many cursing the damn dog that had ruined it for all of them. Lovino couldn't help in sharing their sentiments and even Feliciano looked saddened by it. He immediately cheered up when he remembered the amazing pictures he had taken, however. The thought that he could look back and see it whenever he wanted was a very comforting one.

"I wish Luddy had been there to see it," he sighed as they sat down together. He loved the adorable look that his boyfriend would get when he was tongue-tied. He was sure that Ludwig would have been speechless; he didn't exactly have a way with words, and even Feliciano was at a slight loss for what to say about the sight. He would have to get a picture of Luddy's shocked face to keep forever.

"Whatever," Lovino snorted. He would have liked to share the moment too, but he refused to acknowledge whom with. "Feli, how did you know that… Well…" The question slipped out without his volition and now it was too late to drop it. He wanted to slap himself.

"How did I know what Lovi?" the little Italian pressed.

"H-how did you know," he continued, feeling his cheeks burn. "How did you know that you l-liked the- er, _Ludwig_." The stuttered question was the most embarrassing thing he had ever asked anyone, but he needed to be sure.

Feliciano felt like he would explode with joy. "It wasn't hard to work it out, even for _me_," he giggled. "Luddy makes me happier than anything else in the world, even pasta! And when we hold hands, my tummy does back-flips. When he smiles, it makes me smile too. He doesn't find me annoying and he always helps me out when I need it and he taught me how to tie my laces, although I'm still not very good at it. I always want to see him, and I can't imagine ever being without him. Lovi, I _love_ him!"

Lovino did not return his brother's triumphant smile. Rather than sharing in Feli's joy, his stomach sank further than he had ever thought possible. _Feliciano loves everyone_, he told himself _.Antonio is only helping me because it's his job. And Feli always smiles anyway, that's nothing special._

But Feliciano's love for pasta was not something to be taken lightly. Lovino could still remember how Antonio's touch had burned him and how it felt so right to feel his breathing against his back. His stomach was doing somersaults at the mere thought of it. And he wanted to see Antonio again, he couldn't deny it.

Oh lord, no_. Nonononono_. This was not happening, no way in hell. This was stupid! This was the most ludicrous thing ever! He was not falling for Antonio, of course not.

_Such a bad liar_, the voice teased.

* * *

Antonio, on the other hand, was having a lot less difficulty coming to terms with the fact that he may or may not have feelings for a certain Italian. He liked to think he was in touch with his feelings, something that Gilbert enjoyed poking fun at- although it was very hypocritical of him to do so; the Bad Touch Trio had watched Up together, and who had been there to console Gilbert as he sobbed his heart out? The self-proclaimed Prussian pretended to be above empathy, but he was a big softie really.

So, he probably liked Lovino more than he should have. At least he had established that. But what to do about it? He couldn't ask Francis for advice, because he knew exactly what that advice would be: "Sleep with him and see how you feel about it in the morning," or something along those lines. That left Gilbert. Unfortunately, his mobile went straight to voicemail, so that was out too. He was down to his last option: himself.

"Stand back and take a look at things," he said wisely. When he did, the answer was obvious. He was a teacher, Lovino was a student. He was an adult, Lovino was a minor. Lovino didn't seem very fond of him. Lovino quit counselling. Never mind how well things had gone yesterday, that was just one day. If anything _did _happen, he would lose his job and it would be on his record forever! The press would hear about it; they always did. He would be forever branded a pervert. That was _Francis'_ title, not _his_.

It was clear. He would do nothing. Nothing could ever come from nothing. Zero plus zero equalled zero. He would do _zilch_.

Too bad self-restraint had never been his strong point.

* * *

**Well, this is a lot later than I expected it to be. Even the internet can be stupid sometimes! I feel like this is really random chapter. I have no idea where the butterflies came from, they just kind of happened. I don't even know if butterflies congregate on trees like that. I think I saw a picture of it once. Something about a monarch migration? (She's too lazy to look into it, shame on her!) I don't know if you get butterflies in October either… I was just going by Animal Crossing. Games are always factually correct, right?**

**I'm not a sporty person, but I've been getting really into the Olympics, particularly the rowing events. I was watching Team GB this morning in the men's four sculls (I think that was the name) and I was sitting on the edge of my seat. It was nail biting stuff! Did you see how close it was between GB and the Netherlands? I'm pretty sure it was the Netherlands. Maybe it was Germany… I was watching the canoe slalom today as well. Canoeing looks super fun! Sometimes I really wish I was athletic. And the gymnastics… Wow. Those people are so fit. And a member of Team GB gave the nerdfighter salute after her routine! That was very cool of her.**

**On another note… The amount of reviews and alerts this story has gotten really surprises me. I wasn't expecting anything near this! I know it's not as amazing as what other people have wrote, but for my first ever attempt, I'm quite pleased with it, and I'm so grateful to you all. So thank you, really. You all get a butterfly, or something.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine! Most of this chapter ended up being centred around Arthur and Alfred, but it's relevant! It'll play a part later on in the story. For now, I hope you like USUK.**

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**Chapter Seven- Don't Do That**

Arthur was angry. Scratch that- he was furious. As he marched his way from Alfred's house he thought cracks might appear in the pavement from the force of each footfall. He knew he looked stupid and that he was too old for silly tantrums like these, but for once, he didn't care about being an upheld British gentleman (even if his mother was very quick to remark that nobody thought he was a model gent, not looking like that).

Alfred F. Jones was, without a doubt, the biggest git on the planet. Arthur wanted to kick his bloody arse into next week. Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't wanted that before, but this time he _really_ would put his football boots on to do the job. His brother's football boots, the lucky ones. Even though they smelled like their previous owner (his dad) had died in them, which he would have believed only he had seen his dad alive and kicking that morning. Better yet, Alfred could take the boots and give _Arthur_ the foot because more than anything, he wanted to kick himself.

Sunday had started off like every other Sunday before it. He was reading the paper whilst drinking his morning cup of tea. He wiped the toast crumbs from his fingers and reached out for his phone which had started to ring. He didn't need to look at it; he knew exactly who it was. A ghost of a smile played on his lips and a little rush of happiness shot to his brain.

"_Artie!_" Arthur winced in pain as Alfred's obnoxious voice assaulted his eardrum.

"What the _bloody hell_ do you want?" Arthur snapped at him, and then chided himself about how defensive the question had come out. He didn't mean to sound so sour, but that was his default setting. "Sorry… What is it?"

"Ahmgunnafayul!" Arthur couldn't make head or tail of the garbled reply. It sounded like Alfred was speaking with his mouth full.

"I beg your pardon?" Arthur had tried to teach Alfred to speak properly, but all attempts had been rather fruitless. He sincerely hoped Alfred wasn't eating junk food this early in the morning, but he didn't put it past him. Alfred ran on McDonalds like a car runs on diesel.

"The essay due tomorrow! I don't what to write! If I fail it, Mrs Steel said she'll put me in detention." Ah, so Alfred wasn't eating. He was just hysterical. Arthur would bet his life savings that Alfred was really regretting not listening to him now. With a sigh, he told Alfred that he would be over in half an hour- he felt like he had to at least pretend to be reluctant. In reality, he loved the time he spent with Alfred.

Alfred's house was close to Arthur's, which was one of the reasons why they had been friends for so long. Most of the boys' childhood had been spent running from house to house. Alfred also never made fun of his cooking (it _was_ edible, thank you very much) or the collection of stuffed animals that decorated his room. True, he had thought that Arthur shared a room with his younger sister at first, but he had only laughed for five minutes when he found out that wasn't the case. In return, Arthur only poked fun at Alfred's belief in aliens once. It was an unspoken agreement that those two things were not to be used as ammunition in fights.

When Arthur turned thirteen, Alfred helped him dye his hair, much to his mother's horror. Alfred very nearly gave him his first ear piercing too, but Arthur decided at the last moment that he didn't trust him _that_ much, which had resulted in Alfred storming out of the room, nursing his wounded feelings and refusing to talk to Arthur for two days. They always fought- it was really just background noise in the friendship now- but they always made up.

Upon arrival at Alfred's house, Arthur was dragged through the door and up the stairs to Alfred's hero-themed bedroom without one word on the American's part- Arthur was far from silent. Mrs Jones heard Arthur's loud protests and called a cheery "Hello!" to him from the kitchen.

"What in God's name was that about?" Arthur asked, shaking the arm that Alfred had been holding in his vice-like grip. That boy didn't know how strong he was. He sat down on the Captain America duvet and crossed his arms, hoping he looked sterner than he felt. He tried his best to adopt the expression that Batman was wearing on the poster that hung next to the door.

"What the hell is an oxymoron?" Alfred threw his English exercise book at Arthur, narrowly missing his head. Arthur was very tempted to throw it back at his stupid friend, but the last thing they needed was a fight to distract them. Teaching Alfred was going to take all day, what with the American having the attention span of a teaspoon for anything that involved English. He excelled at subjects like math and science, but he couldn't get a hold on this one subject in particular.

"An oxymoron," Arthur sighed, "is a contradicting statement. Like 'beautiful tyrant' or… Or 'grammatically-correct Alfred."

"Hey!" Alfred pouted and put his hands on his hips, trying his best to look angry. He wasn't very good at it and it only lasted a second until his usual cheery grin broke out. "I try Artie, I try."

"I know you do," Arthur mumbled as Alfred sat on the bed beside him. He ruffled his hair jokingly; a gesture that went back to when the two first became friends and Alfred declared they were like brothers. Arthur had replied that he was much more sensible than him and he was older too, so that made him more like a dad. Alfred slapped the hand away and poked Arthur in the ribs. "No, we need to concentrate!" Arthur tried to sound cross and failed.

"You're no fun," Alfred teased, his bright blue eyes shining with humour.

"You're the one who asked me over here, and you sounded like you were having a breakdown at the time!" Arthur replied. "Why were you so worried?"

"Shit, yeah. I can't fail this; my mom will flip if I get another detention. Y'know how she is about these kinda things. I mean, I've only been in detention twice, but man, you shoulda seen her face when she found out. It was like I told her I'd just killed someone!" Mrs Jones was one of the nicest people anyone could hope to meet and most of the time, she was one of the 'cool mothers' that let her son eat fast food for nearly every meal and play games until his backside had made a permanent indent on the couch, but she was very uptight about Alfred's education. She was adamant that Alfred leave school with good results and make something of his life. Arthur wasn't sure why, but it had something to do with Alfred's father. The Jones' had moved here after Alfred's parents got a divorce, but it wasn't a much discussed topic for reasons unknown to Arthur. Not that it was any of his business anyway.

"Well, let's start here, shall we?" Arthur settled down and pointed out where Alfred had gone wrong in his draft essay. When Mrs Steel had said 'write about anything' he wasn't sure she meant it so loosely. Alfred had chosen superheroes as his topic, which was just like him. Honestly, did he _wonder_ why the grumpy old bag of a teacher hated him more than anyone else in the class?

"It's not my fault she's a boring old lady that sits at home with her many cats every night, watching reruns of Bargain Hunt!" Alfred complained when Arthur voiced his reservations about the topic. "I'm just trying to make her life more interesting. I'm doing her a favour."

Arthur chuckled at his friend's stubbornness. "I'm not sure she sees it that way. Now, I've written a few pointers for you. Try the first paragraph again and we'll take it from there." Arthur allowed himself to watch the look of determination on Alfred's face as he combed his brain for the right thing to say.

Arthur had first realised that he liked Alfred on his fourteenth birthday, which had been nearly two years ago. At first he had been scared, not to mention disgusted with himself. But he had accepted it and moved on. Alfred would never return his feelings, he was sure. So all he could do was be a good friend and watch as Alfred grew up and fell in love with the woman of his dreams and eventually leave him behind. Arthur didn't mind; being alone wasn't _that_ bad. It would give him time to think and do whatever he wanted to do with his life.

Moments like these were precious, and he would be a damn fool if he didn't appreciate them.

"Is this right?" Alfred handed the book back to Arthur and bounced on the bed like an excited child, waiting for the almighty judgement. Arthur deemed it acceptable and Alfred cheered in celebration, very proud of himself indeed. "You're a genius Artie!" Arthur blushed at the compliment, mumbling that it was nothing.

"Next paragraph then," he said quickly.

"No way!" Alfred pulled the red-faced boy off the bed and towards the door. "Let's go play a game, okay? I've been working for _ages_. I deserve a break!"

"We haven't even been up here an hour," Arthur pointed out, not really trying to deter Alfred. It was useless anyway. Besides, Alfred probably wanted to play a scary game. He'd come crawling back to the books eventually, with promises that he'd never play the game again. That was what always happened. It was Alfred's circle of life.

Alfred was hilarious when he played scary games. There was something about watching 'the hero' nearly pee his pants in fear that made Arthur laugh, which just riled Alfred up even further, which Arthur found both funny and endearing. Amnesia was the best. Arthur didn't find it scary in the least, but Alfred whimpered like a little girl and shot ten feet in the air every time something appeared. Nearly two hours had passed, and Arthur was still watching in amusement as Alfred subjected himself to the unending terror.

"Artie!" he wailed. "It's gonna kill me! I don't wanna die! Oh man, what _is_ that? Oh God, it's following me! Artie, save me!" He let out a very unmanly scream and dived for the nearest pillow as the thing on the computer screen attacked and killed him, or whatever happened in this game.

"I think we should go back upstairs," he suggested, feeling a little bad for laughing at his friend when he was so scared. He squeaked as Alfred latched himself around his waist.

"We can't go out there," he whispered in horror. "They'll get us."

"Oh, pull yourself together Alfred! It's just a game. They can't get you here." Being like this reminded Arthur of when they would watch horror films together (before Arthur had banned 'Scary Movie Night') and Alfred would hug Arthur with such strength, he thought he might actually die. The only difference was that Alfred was in a much more awkward place right now. He pushed him away gently.

"Do you promise?" Alfred asked in a small voice.

Arthur nodded in confirmation, not trusting himself to speak. Alfred looked so cute, he had to cough and look away before he smiled.

"I don't wanna work," Alfred huffed, not moving from the floor. "Let's do something else, something fun. We could go for a walk! Or play baseball, or soccer- sorry, _football_. Anything else but work!"

Arthur should have seen this coming too. "We have to go back upstairs. You don't want to fail, remember?" He talked to Alfred the same way as one would speak to a child. Alfred refused, and he sighed in annoyance.

"Artie, be cool!" he whined. Arthur bristled at the comment.

"Well, sorry for not being cool," he snapped. "But you asked for my help, didn't you? Do you want it or not? I can leave if that's not the case. I have plenty to get on with. I didn't have to agree to this!" He hated how he sounded like a grumpy old man, but Alfred had hurt his feelings. Sometimes he felt like he was holding Alfred back; Alfred was the one that all the kids wanted to be friends with, the one that everyone wanted on their team and no one (with the exception of Mrs Steel) ever failed to like him. That was how it had always been. Arthur wasn't _unpopular_, but he wasn't popular either. If it wasn't for him, Alfred could be up there with the so-called 'cool kids'.

"Aw, you _know_ I didn't mean it like that." Alfred tried to backtrack, but that wasn't the apology Arthur wanted to hear. "How about we settle this over a game of Mario Kart?"

"Alfred, you stupid git. Act your age, not your shoe size!" Arthur said hotly. Alfred's childish act was grating on his nerves. "Get your fat arse up those stairs and get your head in those books!" Arthur was just as careless as Alfred was with his words sometimes. He instantly regretted what he had just said when he saw how hurt Alfred looked. He knew his friend was conscious about his weight, so why did he have to be so idiotic and say things like that? "Sorry, sorry. We can have one game, but-"

"So I'm stupid _and_ fat? Jesus Arthur, you really know how to make a guy feel good about himself." Alfred turned away from Arthur, who was about to slap his own face off, and poked his stomach worriedly. Was he really fat? Maybe he should cut back on the burgers.

"I'm sorry, it just slipped out. I don't really think that, you know I don't."

"No, you've made yourself clear. I'll just go back to playing games and you can leave. You _obviously_ don't want to be stuck with someone as fat and annoying as me."

"Now look here," Arthur almost shouted. "You asked- no, _begged_ for my help, so I dropped everything and rushed over, because you are my friend and that's what friends do. Excuse me for feeling like you're just taking me for granted!" Yes, Arthur was sorry he had called Alfred names. Yet now his thick-headedness was starting to vex him. But the two had a bad habit of holding grudges- granted they didn't hold them for particularly long- and this was not something that Alfred was going to forget within the hour. He should leave, and tomorrow everything would be fine. So why didn't he leave?

This was how it always went. Alfred would call and he, like the love struck fool he was, would rush to his side. His head told him that he should give up on Alfred, but his heart pushed him to keep trying. Stupid heart. Stupid-bloody-stubborn-careless heart. Why couldn't he just fall in love with a girl, like a normal person? Then they could have a normal friendship. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't. He wanted to stop hurting Alfred because it always led to him hurting himself, but he just couldn't, even though he tried.

"If you think I'm just taking you for granted, then you really should leave! Go home and play with your stupid fairies. I bet that's all you were gonna do today anyway." A low blow from Alfred.

"Fine, I will! And you go and search for those damn aliens! Although you'll be searching for the rest of your life because guess what? They don't bloody exist!"

Alfred's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. These were the taboos that they were never to use against each other. "Aliens are _totally_ real! People have seen them! At least _I_ don't believe in stupid children's stories, unlike some of us."

"You're such a wanker sometimes," Arthur growled, unable to come up with a better reply. He really was going to leave now, before he started to sound even more juvenile.

"Yeah, you hate me." Alfred resisted the urge to throw the Wii remote at the Brit who could make milk curdle just by looking at it. The scowl made him look like he had a uni-brow. Normally he would laugh at him, but he was too angry right now. Plus, he didn't really need to make Arthur any angrier either.

That wasn't how Arthur felt at all, but as it was, he was happy to let Alfred think that. He hoped he would fail the essay too. Maybe then he would appreciate him. "I'll see you at school then," he mumbled. "Enjoy your half-arsed game."

Alfred shot back a growled response, but Arthur had already shut the door and couldn't hear what he had said. Not that it mattered anyway. The only words Arthur wanted to hear from Alfred were "I'm sorry" but he wasn't going to hear that for another day at least. Alfred had started it all, it was only right he apologise first; that was what Arthur was telling himself anyway. Maybe he could fool himself into thinking that he hadn't been responsible for the argument in the slightest. But the more he tried to tell himself that, the more frustrated he got, because it had mostly been his fault. Sure, Alfred had been reluctant to work. But it wasn't as if that hadn't happened before; he should have handled it way better.

By the time he got home he was very angry, very sweaty (why was it so hot in the middle of October?) and very near to tears, even though he wasn't quite sure why. Speaking honestly, he wasn't quite sure of anything. Alfred was his best friend- oh and how he hoped they could be more, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. This wasn't how to go about making that happen.

Was friendship supposed to hurt like this? It wasn't always so hard. Arthur wished he could go back to the days where he was content to simply be able call Alfred his friend. There was nothing he could do about it now. He wiped the tears away and went up to his room. He lay on his bed with flying mint bunny and there he stayed.

* * *

Lovino had meant to go see Antonio on Monday. Honestly, he had. Definitely! But it seemed like Arthur and Alfred were in the middle of a fight again. He hadn't thought it was serious because it never was, but when Wednesday rolled around Arthur was still following him everywhere and not giving him a free moment. He wouldn't have minded the company under normal circumstances, but Arthur didn't exactly make it easy. Lovino had tried to speak to him on a few occasions and the only answer he ever got was a blank look or a monosyllabic mumble. Not great conversational material.

Actually, it was starting to get really annoying. It was like being trailed by a ghost and every now and then Alfred would shoot him scathing looks, as if this was _his_ fault. Asking Arthur what the whole thing about was no use. The way things looked, the two were not going to kiss and make up like they normally did any time soon. Lovino, thoroughly fed up with it all, decided it was about time they sorted their shit out. It had _absolutely_ nothing to do with Antonio, because he was _definitely_ not looking forward to seeing him again.

Fortunately Kiku agreed with him, so they made a plan which would be carried out during Italian class. Normally Kiku sat beside Alfred in that class and Arthur sat beside Lovino, but today there would be a slight change in the seating arrangement. Alfred waved hello to Kiku as he walked into the room, but Kiku ignored him- which was not an easy thing to do as it completely went against his natural instinct to be polite- and walked on, sliding into Arthur's seat which was a couple of tables behind his usual place. Alfred was confused, not that you could blame him.

Lovino and Arthur walked in moments later. Arthur had his head in the air, refusing to look at Alfred, which made it easy for Lovino to move behind him and shove him roughly into Kiku's seat. "No arguments," he hissed when Arthur opened his mouth, ready to unleash a vicious verbal assault. "Stop fucking around and sort this goddamn stupid thing out. I don't know what the problem is, which is shit because it's starting to become my problem too. Get it fixed." And with that, he joined Kiku and left the gobsmacked duo sitting in silence.

"Do you think we were too bold?" Kiku worried as he copied down what the teacher had wrote on the board. Lovino wasn't bothering with it since he spoke better Italian than the teacher.

"Non ti preoccupare," he said as the teacher shot him a dirty look. He was sure it had been the right thing to do, even though Alfred and Arthur were now eyeing each other like two cats in an alleyway. Hey, at least they were communicating. Kind of. He willed them to talk, but the glares carried until the last fifteen minutes of class.

He couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but he thought he caught something about an essay and a relieved mother. That last part was a little weird though, so he wasn't sure whether or not it was right. He strained his ears for an apology, but he didn't hear anything like that. When the bell rang, Alfred and Arthur shoved their books in their bags and left without saying anything to anyone. Lovino wasn't sure if silence was better than dirty looks.

One a lighter note, he was finally alone and free to go see Antonio. Teachers always stayed on later than pupils, right? Even though Antonio wasn't technically a teacher, he made his way to the office. For the first time ever, he knocked on the door before he entered the room. His hand slipped off the door handle when he first tried to open it, but his hands were sweating simply because of the ungodly heat. He wasn't nervous, no way.

"Lovi!" The way Antonio said his name made Lovino want to smile. The name was full of surprise, joy, relief and a little bit of hope, he thought. Why hope? It was almost like he cared.

Maybe his hands _were_ sweating because he was nervous.

Antonio's grin stretched from ear to ear as he watched Lovino take a seat. "Have you considered my offer?"

"I have." He didn't want to say just how much time he had spent thinking about the offer or, much to his embarrassment, Antonio himself. "I decided to give you another chance." Now he sounded like a spoilt, haughty child. This wasn't a good start… What he wouldn't give to go back and do it all over again. This wasn't how to make someone like you.

Not that he cared what Antonio thought of him.

Or so he tried to tell himself. It was hard to repeat that mantra in his head when Antonio suddenly lunged over the desk and hugged him with more force than Feliciano, and that was saying something. "Lovi~! I'm so glad~! ¡Gracias!"

"G-get off me, bastardo!" Lovino shoved him away roughly, cheeks burning like wildfire. He didn't enjoy the hug and he most certainly didn't want it to last a little longer. Of course not!

Antonio looked a little dazed, like he was confused about what just happened. "Oh, lo siento. I should learn to control myself, shouldn't I?" He laughed and pulled a small tomato out from one of the drawers in his desk (…who keeps tomatoes in their desk?). "Do you want one?" he asked when he caught Lovino staring at it rather enviously.

"No," Lovino retorted all too quickly. Antonio threw one at him anyway, and he didn't protest when he caught it. "Thank you," he mumbled, taking a bite of the plump fruit. Antonio chuckled, a pleasant sound that went right through Lovino.

It was easy to just sit and eat tomatoes with Antonio. He didn't feel any pressure to talk about his feeling like he normally did with counsellors. It probably had something to do with the relaxed aura that filled the room._ Antonio's_ aura. It would have been fitting to have some lazy Latino beat playing in the background. Lovino felt almost as though he were in Spain due to the heat that was starting to become uncomfortable. There was no air conditioning in the office; how Antonio had managed like this all week, he had no idea. He wanted to take his blazer off, but he couldn't do that…

"I'm sorry about the heat," Antonio grimaced. Lovino would say it was as if he had read his mind, but his irked shifting probably had more to do with his words than anything. "I'm used to the heat because I lived in Spain until I was ten, but I gather it's normally a little colder here. I _did_ have a fan at home, but Gilbert broke it the other day when he decided to use it as a guitar."

So that was why Antonio's speech had such a twang to it. Lovino had lived in Italy for the early years of his life, but his mother moved them over here when Feliciano was a toddler. He didn't remember Italy very well. "It's not that bad."

"Really? You look too warm. You should take the blazer off, you know. You could get heat stroke!" Lovino would have liked nothing better than to take the blazer off- he could feel his hair sticking to his forehead- but that meant Antonio would see his arms.

"It's fine," he persisted. He tried to sound casual but his voice was a little strained. Antonio frowned at him. He gulped as the green orbs appraised him carefully, observing his body language which consisted mostly of him squirming in his seat awkwardly.

"I think you should take the blazer off." There was none of the usual humour in Antonio's voice. Lovino tried to hide his arms as he slid them from the sleeves but it didn't work as well as he had hoped. The shame he felt was awful when he saw how shocked Antonio was by the scars that dotted his arms. His chagrin was particularly directed at the most obvious of the scars, the ugly off-pink one that was close to his elbow joint. Antonio reached out a hand and ran his fingers over it. "Did you do this?"

Lovino nodded. Any second now, the scolding, or more likely and even worse, the questions would come. He shrank back in his chair, humiliated. He waited. There were no harsh words. No unwelcome, impersonal inquiries. No poking and prodding at his mental state. He looked up. There was just panic, plain panic, and it was all over Antonio's face. He grabbed Lovino's arm and held on too tightly. "Don't do that!" he cried desperately.

That was the last thing he expected. Antonio's face reminded him of a child begging their mother not to go to work, to stay at home with them instead.

"Please, Lovino. You must promise me you will never do this again. Promise me you'll never hurt yourself on purpose again, promise!"

Lovino pried Antonio's fingers from his arm. "I promise," he conceded, completely baffled by the Spaniard's behaviour. Antonio recoiled and held his head in his hands, looking down so Lovino couldn't see his face. The way his fingers tugged at his hair looked painful. He wanted to reach out and tell him to stop.

"I'm sorry," Antonio said in a low voice. "But you must understand how important this is."

"_Why do you care so much?"_

That's what Lovino really wanted to know. Antonio was a little stunned by the question. Of course he cared. That was his job, wasn't it? But that wasn't the real reason, and he knew it. No, the real reason was…

"I had a brother." Lovino was still confused. He didn't see exactly how that applied to the situation. Unless… Oh. He wanted to the ground to swallow him whole. "His name was Marcos. He was a couple of years younger than me. We didn't have a very good childhood, Marcos and I, but he always seemed so happy. I thought he was so much stronger than I was. He kept me going. And when I was around your age…"

"You don't have to tell me this," Lovino told him. It felt too personal, too weird to have an adult sitting in front of him nearly in tears.

"I didn't see it coming. So, you see… I don't want anyone to ever feel the same way as he did. Lovi, can I tell you something? I never wanted to work with children like you because I was scared it would remind me of my brother. I had to be convinced to take the job. But I'm really glad I did, because I met you."

What could he say to that? He couldn't remember the last time someone told him they were glad they knew him, but the context was all wrong. It should have made him happy, but he couldn't stand to see Antonio like this. Antonio was supposed to be the counsellor, but now he felt like their roles were reversed. His hand moved without his knowledge and settled on Antonio's shoulder. Antonio looked up and understood what he was trying to say.

"I just want you to know that I really do care, Lovi," he smiled weakly.

"I… Thanks." It was an understatement on his part, but he wasn't ready to say more. Not even after that.

"Let's get out of here!" Antonio announced suddenly after composing himself.

"_What_?"

"Come with me, I have somewhere I want to show you." Lovino hesitated, but a part of him thought 'what the hell'. So he took Antonio's outstretched hand and didn't stop to think about how right it felt, and how strangely exciting it was to be led off to some unknown place by the Spaniard who was slowly earning a place in his heart.

* * *

**So we all know who the mysterious Marcos is, at long last. Poor Toni. Is it what you all expected? I'm quite curious to know what you all thought.**

**This is the point where I'm going to try and get things moving with Antonio and Lovino's relationship, although I don't want things to happen **_**too**_** quickly, if you know what I mean. I can't say for sure exactly whereabouts this is in the story, but I think we're approaching the halfway mark. It feels like it's happened very suddenly! Summer's almost over D: WHYYYY**

**One last thing; do you guys have any ideas for what you'd like to see happen in the story? Don't worry, I know exactly where things are going, but it'd be handy to hear your input and maybe get a few things to bulk the future chapters up a bit. Let me know in a review, or just send me a PM if you do have any ideas. I'd love to hear them! You know, it's October, which means Halloween is coming up…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight- Promises and Plans**

Antonio's car was shit. It was rusty, temperamental and falling to pieces. He rarely drove it, but he had slept in late that morning and didn't have time to wait for a bus, so he had been forced to take the crap-mobile. "I'm saving up for a new car," he apologised as Lovino took the door handle gently, as though he were afraid it would break off if he pulled too hard. It wasn't an unlikely outcome, really.

Lovino wrinkled his nose when he saw the old drink cans and other random articles of junk that littered the back seat, courtesy of Gilbert and Francis. "How old is this piece of shit?"

"Good question," Antonio mused as he willed the ancient engine to life. It spluttered in protest, but started up after a few attempts. "I'd probably get more money if I sold it to a museum instead of a dealership!" He looked over to see if he had managed to coax a smile from the teen, but he was fiddling with his seatbelt. "Do you think you should send a text to your grandfather or brother, just to let them know you'll be late?"

"They'll be okay," Lovino mumbled into his hand.

"As a responsible adult, I'd feel a lot better if you did…"

"A responsible adult," Lovino repeated. Well, that got the corners of his mouth twitching a little. Antonio wondered if he could ever get him to _laugh_. Just imagining how that might sound excited him. It would be nice if he could hear that one day, although just getting him to smile properly was a much more realistic target.

"I _am_ a responsible adult!" he exclaimed, negotiating the car out of the school gates.

"Yeah, because all responsible adults whisk random kids off to mysterious locations," came the scoffed reply. "Are you going to offer me candy too?"

Antonio threw him his best puppy dog look, which admittedly wasn't very good. "The mystery part is what makes it fun, Lovi! You'll like it. And if you want candy, there's probably some lying in the back."

"Don't call me Lovi…" Lovino grumbled half-heartedly. He liked how Antonio said his name, but he'd never tell him that. It rolled off his tongue and resounded in a musical fashion. _Lovi_.

Antonio hoped Lovino didn't think he was some kind of sick pervert who preyed on vulnerable children. Even Francis didn't do that. He was just trying to build their relationship up in his own way and if he was lucky, even gain Lovino's trust in time. The boy hadn't even asked where they were going. Antonio took it as a sign of the beginnings of trust, although he realised that was probably just thinking naïvely.

This wasn't exactly normal student-teacher relations. Teachers didn't usually offer to take their pupils on random trips to God-knows-where. Hopefully he would be in Lovino's good books when they got there. Maybe his methods weren't something you'd find in a textbook; he thought it was better like this.

The car was too damn warm. All the decent parking spaces were gone when he arrived late that morning, so he had parked in the sun and now it felt like they were sitting in a sauna. He took the screw driver that held his window in place from where it was jammed and the window fell straight down. "Have you ever heard of air conditioning?" Lovino asked, raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner.

Antonio wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the road and not stare at Lovino's adorable -why deny it- face. "This car hasn't had a working AC unit since the nineties," he explained. "But enough about my car. Tell me all about your day~! Or week, since I haven't seen you since Saturday." This was how he used to talk with Marcos every day after school. He had really missed it.

Lovino shrugged. "Not much to say. I got in trouble on Monday for not doing my homework, but the teacher is a bitch anyway. It's not important."

"That _is_ important Lovi!" Antonio told him. "What was it?"

"Just an English essay," the Italian said nonchalantly, staring out the window. He had no idea where they were going, but he was used to going along with the occasional half-baked idea that spawned from the mystery that was his brother's mind. "Mrs Steel had a fucking aneurysm when I didn't hand it in, so I stayed in over lunch and wrote it then. No big deal."

Lovino did have a point. Antonio's encounters with Mrs Steel had not left a good impression- she looked like she sucked lemons for a living, her voice was comparable to that of nails being dragged across a blackboard, her personality was as bland as a blank page and she smelled like the dodgy coffee machine she stood guard by in the staff room, all oil and caffeine. She was married; he wondered who the poor unfortunate was. "Still, you have to at least try in her class," he maintained.

"It was a one off," Lovino scowled.

"I'm glad to hear it," Antonio said in a satisfied tone. "Oh, Lovi! We're here!" Antonio stopped the car and climbed out. The place hadn't changed at all from when he had last called in, and he couldn't even remember when that was. It was a little shop with a porch out front. Painted with candy-stripes, standing out from the other dull-coloured building that were spread out along the street, the colourful little café was a picture perfect example of sunny summer days, even if it was the middle of October. The oceanic sky stretching out beyond completed the scene. _Beach House Café_ looked like it had been teleported from the coast to the outskirts of a busy town.

He ran to the porch, lost in memories. As children, he and Marcos would often come here for a treat when they managed to escape. He breathed in the coffee scented air- he really did love it here. "What do you think?" he asked Lovino, hoping he would like it as much as he did. The Italian looked a little underwhelmed. Well, that was fine. That was about to change.

He walked in, half expecting to see the same old lady who worked here all those years ago and would always give him an extra scoop of ice-cream. She wasn't there. In her place stood a very odd sight indeed. Antonio thought that keeping animals around food was unhygienic, but the man at the counter had a cat draped over each shoulder rather comfortably and one hanging by the claws from his t-shirt. Business must have been slow, because he was pretty sure that the guy was sleeping on his feet, judging by the quiet snores that were coming from his direction and the gentle nodding motion his head was making.

"What the fuck?" said a very confused Lovino. A cat twisted around his ankles, mewling for attention. He reached down and scratched its ears, hoping Antonio wouldn't see it and guess he had a weakness for cute kitties. Was it really a good idea to keep so many cats around food? Yet the surroundings were squeaky clean.

Antonio waved a hand in front of the man's face, which did a fat lot of use. He should have guessed that anyway, since most people didn't have the ability to see through shut eyelids. "Excuse me," he said, clearing his throat. Still no reaction. "¡Hola!" he tried again, speaking louder.

Lovino marched over and poked the sleeping figure. Honestly, who the hell _slept_ when they were supposed to be working? That was something Feli would do. A pair of jade eyes cracked open and the man's head finally moved to look at them face on, albeit very slowly. "Oh… Customers. Welcome… Can I help you…?"

Antonio thought _he_ was laid back. This person must be trapped in his own little world where everything and everyone moved ten times slower than the usual pace. Still, he seemed nice enough. The cats liked him anyway, going by how they were crowded around his feet. He wondered how anyone could walk like that without tripping. "What's your favourite ice-cream flavour?" he pitched to Lovino, who was still marvelling at how a place with so many cats could be so clean.

"Strawberry," he replied. It would be fantastic if there was such thing as tomato flavoured ice-cream, but it had yet to be invented. Lovino was sitting on that idea, waiting until the time was right for him to reveal it to the world. He was sure he could make a fortune selling that. As soon as he got his own restaurant…

Antonio handed him the frozen treat. It looked more like a rainbow flavoured ice-cream than a strawberry flavoured one- it was covered in a multitude of sprinkles, God-knows how many different sauces, a flake, and he didn't even know what _those_ were. He couldn't tell what flavour Antonio was supposed to be eating, but he appeared to be enjoying it.

"Did you take me all this way for ice-cream?" he asked disbelievingly.

Antonio licked at a trail of melting ice-cream, not wanting to get his hand all sticky. "Yes," he replied sheepishly. "I thought you might like it. Sorry, you probably had-"

"I didn't say I didn't like it, stupid," he cut in, sitting down on the top step. Antonio loved his awkward way of saying thank you. The ice-cream was as good as it had always been, maybe even better, and it was just what he needed on a day like this. It was like homemade soup on a freezing winter's day, not that he could remember that feeling very well.

"I used to come here with my brother."

"Oh." A small, uneasy part of Lovino wondered if Antonio was trying to replace the brother he lost with him. But the way Antonio looked at him from the corner of his eye wasn't brotherly. It made him feel fidgety in a different way. "My mum used to buy ice-cream for me and Feli too."

"What was your mum like?" Antonio inquired, hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

The question took Lovino by surprise. He thought for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe his mother. "She was affectionate, like mothers are supposed to be." That was a bit of an understatement; Feli had learned how to hug from his mother and she was much bigger and stronger than him. "She taught me to cook, and to play the piano. My dad died when Feli was a baby, so she moved us to here and brought us up almost completely by herself. She was strong like that. I guess… She was like every other mum." She wasn't, not at all. There was more, much more, but it _hurt_.

_Like every other mum_, Antonio thought wistfully. If only. His mother was like that in the beginning, but somewhere down the line, it all fell to shit. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment in time. Probably when his father lost his job and started drinking. "_Do you ever miss her?_" He asked himself that question sometimes. He didn't know the answer.

"It was my fault she died," Lovino uttered. "I don't have that right." Crap, he hadn't realised he had asked that question out loud.

"Lovino, I know what happened and it wasn't your fault," he said gravely, putting a hand on the slightly shaking shoulder.

"You _don't_ know what it was like for _me_," the Italian spat, shrugging the well-meaning hand off. He didn't like sympathy. He had been on the receiving end too many times. "I get it, your brother died, and I… I won't say I'm sorry because it doesn't make it better. You weren't there. It was _my fault_ and I'm sick of everyone saying it wasn't. You didn't see it… H-how she… I… I want it to go away. That's all I want."

"It doesn't go away." What was the point in lying? It was better for Lovino to hear the truth. "You'll think about it every day. You'll wonder what you could have done to stop it. You'll always ask yourself 'what if'. It'll always hurt, and it won't ever stop. But it does get better. I know people say that a lot, and I know you don't believe it… I didn't believe it either at first. But I promise you, things will start looking up."

"Maybe for you. Antonio, this has been going on for six years…" It was the first time Lovino had ever said Antonio's name out loud. He whispered so he couldn't hear that his voice was thick with tears. "Sometimes, I just get so tired. I picture what life would be like if I wasn't born. And I cut myself, but I never cut deep enough to actually kill myself."

Antonio knew the feeling. He had never cut himself, but he had come very close many times. He was just lucky that he had friends like Gil and Francis. Lovino had his brother and his grandfather, yes. But it wasn't always so easy to talk about your feelings. No one likes being seen as weak.

"I'm so fucking scared. I hate it so much and I don't even know what there is to be scared of. But I'm really, really fucking terrified." The tears were burning down his cheeks and he didn't even care about the fact he hadn't cried in front of anyone for real since his mother's funeral. He neededneeded_needed_ to say this, even though he had never wanted to before he met Antonio, not even to Feliciano.

It was the weirdest feeling ever. It was like he wasn't in his own body at all, but he was watching from up above. He watched as Antonio took the receipt from the forgotten ice-creams and scribbled something down. He watched as he said; "This is my number, and I want you to use it. I don't care what it's about, I don't care what time it is, I don't care where you are. I will _always_ answer. And if you need me, I'll be there as quick as possible. It's a promise."

And Lovino knew he was telling the truth, which was why he took the piece of paper and put it in his pocket and was completely aware of doing it and held no discrepancies about it. Antonio lost his serious face almost immediately and laughed easily, obliterating whatever tension was there. "If we were kids, this is the part where we would make a pinky swear."

Lovino smiled in agreement.

* * *

Feliciano was a little worried when his fratello didn't meet him at the school gate at half past three, but he soon forgot about it when Ludwig offered to walk him home. They stopped to pet every cat or dog they happened upon, all the interesting trees, that strange looking bug, Feliciano's favourite bench in the park that he had always wanted to show Ludwig, and he loved the look on Ludwig's face that said 'what am I to do with you' because that meant Ludwig was happy and that made him happy. Well, happier than usual, anyway.

It was long past four o'clock by the time they arrived at Feliciano's house, even though the house was only ten minutes from the school. Ludwig gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, which he returned with a not-so-chaste kiss on the lips. He may have appeared innocent, but he _was_ an Italian, after all. Ludwig certainly didn't protest.

He found himself home alone, which was something he really hated. He may not have been able to remember the night his mamma died as well as his brother did, but there was no forgetting how the stranger had barged into their quaint house. Years ago, he had once told Lovino his fear of the man returning to finish what he started, but Lovi told him that he had nothing to worry about and let him snuggle in bed with him that night. His fratello was really nice sometimes.

He turned the CD player as loud as it would go so it didn't feel like he was so alone and got a start on planning what he would wear for the school's annual Halloween Scare Fest. He sang along to the Bohemian Rhapsody as he thought about what he had been in previous years; a kitty (much to Lovi's horror), a soldier (complete with his own white flag), an alien, and he had even tried to be a bowl of pasta one year. That last one hadn't worked out, but he knew it would have been _so_ amazing.

Lovi pointedly refused to dress up each year- the whole thing was for charity, so he still brought in his donation nonetheless- despite Feli's best efforts. But he maintained that one year he would get Lovi in a costume. So really, he wasn't so much planning his own costume as he was his reluctant brother's. He didn't want it to be anything cliché, but it had to be something that would take less than half an hour to convince Lovi to leave the house in. That left him with very little options, unfortunately.

But maybe… He thought he may have it. Yes, this was something that Lovi would only throw a small tantrum over. If Feli were a bird, he would have been an excellent peacock; he was remarkably proud of himself right now. God, he was a genius sometimes! This was going to be a Scare Fest like no other. He was finally going to get Lovi all dressed up like he had been wanting for simply _ages_. The Student Committee had promised this would be the most terrifying Scare Fest yet, and although the prospect of that made his blood run cold, he would have Ludwig this year. Lovi refused to take Feli along for the trip around the Haunted Campus because he stubbornly insisted that Feli would die of a heart attack, but Feli knew the real reason was because Lovi was a notorious fear-crier like himself. But now the brave and strong and handsome and wonderful Ludwig would be with him. He could always put the crying to good use… Ludwig was very good at comfort hugs.

_And more_, he thought mischievously.

What could he say? His grandfather had taught him better than he knew.

* * *

**I wonder what Feli is planning… He thinks he has it in the bag, but his idea of a good costume may not be to Lovino's liking. I'm almost certain of what I want Lovi to dress up as. Anyone who guesses right will be rewarded with a cookie!**

**I would love to hear ideas for costumes for Artie, Alfie and the rest of them. I can't think of anything other than a few clichés, but I don't mind if you don't! Ah, I love Halloween. And any other suggestions for the story are welcome as well, scenes you'd like to see and all that.**

**Thanks for all your reviews and to everyone who added this to their alerts/favourites. It means a lot to me! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

**Chapter Nine- To Be or Not to Be**

"There is no fucking way I will ever wear that," Lovino growled when Feliciano presented him with the design he had come up with for his costume. Feliciano, who had been so sure of his genius mind, looked as if someone had told him there would be no Christmas this year. He whimpered pathetically, shoving the drawing into Lovino's face just in case looking at it more closely would make him realise what a brilliant idea it was. The shading in particular was excellent.

Lovino took the drawing and tore it in half. He wasn't normally one for raining on his little brother's parade, but of all the ideas he had ever had, this was one of the worst. "No. Fucking. Way," he reiterated.

"But I thought you liked those… Ve…" Feliciano mourned the loss of his beautiful picture.

"That doesn't mean I want to dress up like that!" Lovino spluttered. "I don't want to dress up at all! I'll feel stupid, especially looking like that. You know I hate being stared at!"

Feliciano tried again, waving the two halves of the drawing wildly. "Everyone else does it!" Actually, Lovino had done a very neat job of tearing the paper in half. The two pieces were almost equal. He made a mental note to ask his brother to fold his homemade cards from now on- he never could get it quite right.

"And they all look _stupid_," was Lovino's final word on the subject. Oh, how he hated Halloween. He loathed dressing up; he couldn't stand how random brats would turn up on his doorstep and demand he share his candy, although he wasn't allowed to give out candy ever since he had decided to trick them all that one year- now _that_ had been a good Halloween!

Most of all, he hated the big fuss that the school made every year. He didn't appreciate being scared in the slightest. Yet every year he was forced to help out with the preparations, and just looking at some of the props made him want to crawl away to his special corner. He joined everyone else for the Scare Fest, yes, but he always managed to slip away from the group. He would be damned if he was ever going to scream in front of all his peers, or worse, cry. But he wasn't a fear-crier. Where would anyone get that idea?

And so, he refused to enjoy Halloween. It wasn't like Christmas or any other holiday. That didn't stop Feli from trying to force him into all kinds of bizarre costumes, however. He didn't really mind Feli making a fool of himself, but he wasn't going to do it. Ever since he had been forced into a dress that one time, many years ago, he swore he would never go through such embarrassment again.

Feli stared at Lovi with the best 'I will get you' look he had, which wasn't that impressive, and slunk out of the room. He vowed to return and stuff Lovino into that costume if he had to knock him out first; who knew the little Italian was capable of such dark thoughts.

* * *

_It had been another tough day for Antonio. His day had been spent wandering around town, calling into all the corner stores, all the greasy takeaways, every shop he had seen with a 'HELP WANTED' sign in their windows and even some that hadn't been asking for help. It didn't matter where he went or who he asked, the answer was always the same: "I'm sorry, but you're just too young."_

_Screw that. He was thirteen already. He was perfectly capable of working. He needed the money badly, but not for silly things. He didn't want a PlayStation like Gil, or a new bike like Francis. He didn't even have a TV, so something like a PlayStation was as useful as a chocolate teapot to him. He just needed to get Marcos and himself out of here._

_The stench of alcohol and vomit made Antonio's eyes water as he opened the front door. He kicked past the mountain of unpaid bills and final notices that had accumulated around the front door, ignored his father who had drank himself into unconsciousness yet again and was lying comatose on the couch and into the kitchen, where he sunk down onto a rickety chair, grateful that someone had at least washed last night's dishes._

"_Toni!" A chirpy voice called out to him. Marcos smiled cheerfully at the big brother he revered. The two could have passed for twins, only Marcos was a little shorter than Antonio and he had coffee eyes, whereas Antonio's eyes were as green as they came. "No luck today? That's too bad. I'm afraid it'll be tinned beans for dinner tonight. I meant to go shopping earlier, but there was no money left… Sorry."_

"_It's okay, beans are good for you anyway," he assured the smaller boy, trying to cheer up for his sake. He knew who was responsible for the missing money, but they had stopped pointing fingers long ago, realising it was better to just get on with the struggle that was daily life._

_Marcos giggled mischievously, his warm brown eyes shining with humour. "They make you fart though."_

_Antonio thanked whoever was up there every day for Marcos' naturally positive disposition. If he didn't have his younger brother, he highly doubted he would have lasted this long._

_A father who consumed so much alcohol, he hadn't seen straight for the past two years. A mother who was barely there. Oh, he knew what she did to get by. He felt nothing but pity for her. You could say that he and Marcos had not been especially blessed in the role model department._

_He wished it was a joke. But it wasn't. Reality wasn't funny in the slightest._

"…io…Tonio… Antonio!" Antonio jumped in the air as Yao entered the office and derailed his train of thought by shaking him rather unceremoniously.

"¡Sí!" he said in a much louder than necessary tone.

Yao studied him worriedly. "Are you feeling okay, aru? You were staring at that book shelf like you wanted to kill it. And you're very pale."

Antonio brushed his concerns off easily. "I'm fine, but gracias. You don't have to worry about me!" He gestured for the Asian to take a seat, something that felt a little weird considering Yao was the headmaster. "Did you want to speak to me?"

Yao took the seat gratefully, adopting a business-like posture that made Antonio shift nervously. Could Yao have identified his little crush on Lovino? But he had hardly seen the man at all this week! "Yes. You know that next week is Halloween, and it's tradition to throw a kind of festival every year. There'll be a haunted tour of the school and its grounds and a party in the main hall, aru. We need teachers to help out with things like monitoring the party for alcohol and fights and also for taking groups around the school. I know you aren't a teacher, but do you mind, aru? I should warn you that students like to target the teachers."

"That sounds fun~! Bring it on," Antonio grinned, immensely relieved that Yao hadn't called him out on his fixation with Lovi. Yao returned the Spaniard's infectious smile, assuring him that the annual Scare Fest was something that everyone looked forward to. "I'd be delighted to help."

"Great! There'll be a meeting next week, so I'll tell you all the details then. Xiè xiè!"

Antonio was very excited about the approaching Halloween celebrations. He had always loved Halloween when he was younger, mainly because it was a chance to get out of the house and also because he, Gilbert and Francis played the best pranks. Gilbert, feeling lazy one year, had wanted to simply lie in wait and jump random kids, then take their candy. Antonio hadn't approved of that idea at all, so he had managed to convince Gil to trick the adults instead.

That opened up a can of worms which was probably best left untouched, but it was too late now. It was Francis' idea to prank the grouchy old man on the street who never gave out candy. It was Antonio's idea to do something that involved his precious goldfish pond. It was Gilbert's brainchild to kick things up a notch, which somehow led to emptying a canteen of petrol into the pond and setting it alight. Antonio was glad he had moved the fish into a bucket before Gil burnt them to a crisp.

It had been a spectacular display at first. They made sure to admire their handiwork from afar, lest they get caught. Gilbert and Francis shuddered when they thought of the horrible punishments their parents would subject them to. Antonio just shrugged.

It was truly a beautiful sight to see the flames dancing in the night, licking around the decorative statue that stood in the middle of the pond. Unfortunately, the trio had not taken into account the wind. It was a clear, dry night, yes. But though the wind was quite gentle, it was just strong enough. Gilbert face palmed when he saw how the inferno grew and how the wind nudged it _ever so slightly_. The ever so slightly was enough. The nearby hedge went up in flames. Think of the burning bush on a much grander scale.

Of course they flipped shit when they saw it happen. Gilbert was convinced they would be arrested and spend their adolescence in juvie. Francis had protested at that, claiming he was too beautiful to be treated in such a way. Looking back on it, Antonio put it down to a miracle that they had gotten away with it. It seemed the old man was so grateful his fish were unharmed that he didn't care about the state of his hedge.

Antonio remained nervous around fire. Gilbert maintained that he had not been scared in the slightest; he had known it would happen since the beginning. The fire simply couldn't help but be attracted to his awesomeness (the hedge had actually been in the opposite direction, but nobody mentioned it). And Francis? Actually, they weren't sure what Francis had taken from the experience. Antonio never saw him eating fish, if that meant anything.

So Antonio was no longer the pranker, but was probably going to end up the prankee. He was the best for the job- being friends with Gilbert for all these years had taught him a couple of things. It was going to be extremely difficult to pull the wool over his eyes, so good luck to whoever wished to try. He was no fool.

* * *

"Are you looking forward to the Halloween party next week?" Antonio asked Lovino on Friday afternoon as he watered the plant in the corner. Lovino was trying to drag his traitorous eyes from the Spaniard's form. It wasn't working all that well.

"Like hell I am," Lovino scoffed. "I hate Halloween."

"¿Qué?" Antonio looked up in shock. "I thought that all kids loved Halloween! You get to dress up-"

"I hate dressing up."

"Free sweets?"

"Do I look like a five year old to you? You can't fob me off with sugar!"

Antonio shook his head sadly. It was truly a tragedy that Lovino was not in the holiday mood. "So have you always hated it?"

"I liked it when I was younger," Lovino said thoughtfully. "But it's stupid now. Feli still tries to rope me in every year. You know what he wanted me to be this year?"

Antonio leaned closer in anticipation. A mental image of Lovino wearing cat ears plagued him. It wasn't as cute as the image he got of him in a tomato costume. Damn, he needed his head examined.

"A turtle," he said in a mortified whisper. "A fucking _turtle_. He drew a picture and everything."

What Antonio wouldn't have given for that picture. "I like turtles~!" he beamed. "I think you would make a very cute turtle Lovi."

Lovino blushed, secretly pleased that Antonio thought he could be cute. It was a compliment he hadn't received since he was a child. He had forgotten how it made him feel a little better about himself, even if 'cute' was a word more suited for girls. "Just because I like turtles doesn't mean I want to dress as one," he groused. "How do you even make a turtle costume?"

"I don't know," Antonio replied, sitting down. "I think it's nice that Feli would do that for you. He must really care about you! Not a lot of brothers have that kind of relationship." In a way, seeing Lovino and Feliciano together had reminded him of Marcos and himself. Marcos wasn't as happy-go-lucky as Feli, and Lovino was perpetually cantankerous compared to his own glass-half-full outlook, but the sibling bonds were similar.

"Feli is important to me," Lovino admitted. "I'll go to the party to make him happy, but there is no way I'm dressing up."

Well, that was disappointing. Antonio didn't want to be weird, but he would have liked to see Lovino dressed as a turtle. It really would have been adorable. Lovi was still sweet by himself though, or at least Antonio thought so. If you looked past the grumpiness, the barbed wire tongue and the almost constant frown, that is. He liked to think he could do it.

"I was going to dress up," Antonio said. Getting into the spirit of things was always one of the best parts. The day the Bad Touch Trio (or rather just Antonio and Francis, and Gil said it wasn't half as fun without them) had resigned themselves to the fact that they were getting too old to be playing practical jokes on the neighbourhood had been a sad day indeed.

Lovino harrumphed grumpily. "Do you think I'll look out of place?" Antonio asked worriedly. He was an adult now, albeit barely. Things could have drastically changed since he had left for university. What was cool then may not be so cool now.

"You'll look like a fucking idiot," Lovino said very matter-of-factly. He cringed when he saw Antonio sigh dejectedly. He cursed himself for being such a buzz kill. "If you pick a stupid costume," he added, hoping he had salvaged the Spaniard's peppy mood. "Unless you want to look like a dickhead, pick a really good outfit. I think you'll look okay like that."

It wasn't hard to make Antonio happy. It was easier than handing a lollipop to a sulky child. "I'll pick a really, _really_ good one! Like a zombie!" he gushed excitedly.

"Don't choose a zombie," Lovino warned him. "That idea will either be hit or miss. So many people dress up as zombies and most of them end up looking like hookers with lipstick smeared all over their faces and ketchup over their clothes."

Antonio crossed his arms and nodded contemplatively. Halloween was serious business, not to be taken lightly. "Do you have any suggestions?" he inquired hopefully, wanting to pick his brains on the subject. Italians were supposed to know what looks good, weren't they? If the stereotype was anything to go by.

"I think a pirate would be good." Lovino said firmly. He congratulated himself on sounding so confident. Of course he remembered to pause for a moment before he answered. If he had said it too fast, it would sound like he had been picturing the scene in his head. Now it was like the idea had cropped up randomly.

An avid fan of the 'Pirates of the Caribbean' films, it was all so clear to Antonio now. It fitted in with his Spanish heritage too. "¡Esa es una idea fantástica! Lovi, you're brilliant!" He slapped his hands off the desktop eagerly and bounced in his chair.

Lovino sat up a little straighter, filled with pride. "Che cosa ti aspettavi?" he gloated. If Antonio could speak his native tongue, then he was going to do the same.

"You've saved me from a _disaster_," the older man said dramatically. "I guess it's true that all Italians have an excellent taste in fashion."

"That's a stupid stereotype," Lovino told him. He was no Alexander McQueen. Clothes shopping for him normally just meant going into a shop and buying the first piece of clothing he didn't hate.

"It was a very good idea and I will be eternally grateful. Although, it would be much better if you dressed up too~! I would like to see it."

"It wasn't _that_ good, idiota," he mumbled. He enjoyed the appreciation, though it was a little embarrassing. He wasn't used to taking compliments and he never felt like he deserved them. Antonio really meant it, and that was nice. "And I don't care if you would like to see me in costume; it's not happening."

"You can't blame a guy for trying," Antonio shrugged.

The bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. Voices poured from the classrooms and into the hallway, a bombardment of unintelligible conversations. Lovino grabbed his schoolbag and threw it over his shoulder. "I'll see you later," he said awkwardly. It was weird saying goodbye in the normal way. It made a change from storming out of the room.

"Hasta luego," Antonio returned cheerfully. Lovino rolled his eyes as the Spaniard waved enthusiastically. Antonio's positivity could be annoying sometimes, but he couldn't deny it was also infectious.

How odd it was. Lovino found it difficult to think of Antonio as a counsellor. Before meeting him, offices had always been associated with awkward interactions, patronizing adults, unhelpful advice and the lie that someone cared. Dare he say it, Lovino was finding it easier to call Antonio an acquaintance, at least. It was a little too soon to call him a friend, though he couldn't say that he didn't want that.

_A friend_, he thought. He would have laughed at the idea not so long ago. Would Antonio laugh at it now?

_No, he wouldn't. _The voice was considerably kinder recently. He suspected Antonio had something to do with it. He could no longer deny that he was glad of the Spaniard's presence in his life. In little over two weeks, he had become a comforting constant. It wasn't hard to imagine them as friends anymore.

Little did Lovino know, he would soon want more.

* * *

Feli waited patiently at the school gates for his older brother. He would have liked to walk home with Ludwig, but he had spent most of his time with the German lately. He loved being together with Ludwig, but he didn't want Lovi to think he had forgotten about him. His fratello meant a lot to him.

"I wonder where Lovi is…" he sighed to himself. He was dying for a bowl of pasta.

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. Lovino walked around the corner and Feliciano launched himself with an unbelievable strength. Feli could probably leap across the Grand Canyon if there was someone he wanted to hug on the other side. "Ciao!" he sang joyfully.

Lovino pushed him away embarrassedly and tried to tune out the titters coming from other pupils leaving the school. "I've told you not to do that, idiota."

"Ve~ Sorry Lovi," the pocket rocket replied, not really meaning it. He was always going to hug his brother, with or without his consent.

"Whatever," Lovino said gruffly, knowing he would be forever assaulted by surprise hugs. "Let's go home already." He grabbed his younger brother's hand just as he was about to walk out in front of a speeding car. Feli just stared in awe as the car zoomed by at the speed of light. "Let's get there in one piece."

When he was younger, Feli had been told the phrase 'step on a crack, break your mother's back', which had led to him developing a habit of avoiding cracks in the pavement. His mother was long gone, yet the tendency remained. It kept him quiet, so Lovino had never called him out on it. "Have you thought about the Scare Fest?" Feli asked, sticking out his tongue in concentration.

"A little bit." Lovino steadied his brother as he tripped on a crack – so much for avoiding them.

"Are you going to dress up?"

Pause. "Maybe."

As he bent down to pick up a pretty leaf, Feliciano inhaled in excitement. He refused to look at his older brother in case he saw the joy on his face and chickened out. "I saw some material in the shop over the weekend. I can make you a costume if you like."

Oh, the dilemma Lovino was faced with. As much as he hated making a spectacle of himself, he had an inexplicable urge to impress Antonio. "Maybe," he repeated. He yelped in shock as Feliciano sprang up with a cry of triumph. Despite the vague answer, he had taken 'maybe' as 'yes'.

A new sense of determination took over Feliciano. "This will be the best costume ever, ve~" he muttered under his breath. Lovino eyed him nervously as the quiet nonsensical rambling continued. Surprisingly, Feliciano was very capable of accomplishing things when he put his mind to it. The only thing was, when he did put his mind to it, he _really_ put his mind to it. It looked like he would be cooking dinner alone tonight.

"Don't forget about your homework," he reminded him. Feliciano nodded furiously, and Lovino knew he had lost him for the weekend.

Feliciano was undoubtedly the most harmless person you could ever meet. He was kind, sweet, and an airhead. He couldn't hurt anyone if he tried. He had once dedicated a whole afternoon to getting a cat down from a tree, and when he finally reached it, it nearly scratched his face off. Feli just carried the squirming beast down, placed it on the ground, and waved it off happily. There was not a single malicious thought in his head.

However, unknown to most, Feliciano could be positively terrifying. Not in a loud, angry way. It was a crafty kind of scary. Lovino had seen his mother like this on occasion. It was scary because there was no way to tell what kind of thoughts were floating around in that very strange mind of Feliciano's. Trying to delve into the abyss is what frightened Lovino the most.

Lovino did not enjoying the waiting.

* * *

**Turtle Lovi :3 Nobody guessed it, but I guess it was a strange enough idea. I thought it was really cute! I saw a picture once, and the image has plagued me ever since. I could not pass up on this chance to use it.**

**So next chapter, you'll be treated to my pitiful attempt at writing horror. You lucky bunch! The hedge prank that the Bad Touch Trio pulled was actually something that my dad did when he was younger. It can safely be said that my nana has never found out!**

**I've also decided on all the costumes for the next chapter. I never expected so many suggestions! I loved them all :D I can't use them all, but thanks for letting me know your thoughts guys. Your input is appreciated! Thanks to my beta and to all those who added this to their alerts/favourites!**

**Happy Monday to you all :3**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten- This is Halloween**

One of Alfred's favourite songs was 'One Week' by the Barenaked Ladies. It reminded him of his and Arthur's relationship. He used that song as a guideline to follow when they fought. However, he was not sure if things would follow the same pattern this time. He had barely looked at Arthur since that rather awkward Italian lesson. The attempt at polite conversation had done nothing but alienate the two further. There were no hurled insults. There were no violent assaults. There was nothing.

Going by the song, it would be another two days before they made up. Tuesday. The Scare Fest was on the Thursday. If they could apologise by Tuesday, things would be back to normal by the time the Scare Fest arrived. They could forget the whole business ever happened and move on with their lives.

They couldn't, not really. Not as they did before. Alfred couldn't quite place his finger on it, but something had definitely changed. He felt as though it had happened long ago and he was only noticing now. It was driving him up the wall trying to work out what it was, but for the life of him, he just couldn't do it.

Was it him? Sure, he had got his hair trimmed the other week. But that wouldn't affect his and Arthur's friendship, not something stupid like that. He had been a douche to Arthur, true, yet that wasn't a strange occurrence either. All was normal on his side.

Which left Arthur. He had noticed the way Arthur would look at him sometimes in a sideways squinty way, but he thought Arthur just had a speck of dust in his eye or something. Arthur's face was very quick to explode with all kinds of reds these days, which Alfred found hilarious. Maybe Arthur just had hay fever.

Hay fever, that was it. Alfred made a mental note to buy hay fever medication next time he was near the pharmacy. Arthur would appreciate the gesture. It might even help them patch things up! He really was sorry about the fight, although he had remained utterly pissed off for the first few days, and he had behaved very childishly towards Arthur. But he was sorry now. And for the first time, he couldn't tell how the Briton felt about it.

It set him on edge. All weekend, he hadn't been able to think of anything else. Because of the distraction, he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything. He had abandoned his English homework, not giving a stuff about another detention, in favour of planning an outfit for Thursday. Even though it was more exciting than writing an essay comparing Juliet to Elizabeth Bennet, he had still found himself unable to focus properly. He had given up, deciding to just wear the Captain America costume he had worn a couple of years ago.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed from where it sat on his desk. The wooden surface amplified the sound. It was Arthur's ringtone. Arthur had sent him a text. He hardly dared to hope as he opened it.

'**From: Artie :D**

**I forgive you. Do you forgive me?**

**27/10/2012 17.43 PM'**

It wasn't an apology. Arthur blamed him. He didn't care. He just wanted to speak to him again. He typed his reply so fast that, in the end, it was just counterproductive. He kept hitting the wrong letters, much to his annoyance.

'**To: Artie :D**

**Mayb if u come ovr nd help me with my hwk. I promis 2 concntrate this time :)**

**27/10/2012 17.46 PM'**

Okay, so perhaps he wasn't so ready to forgive him without a catch. Arthur hadn't even acknowledged that half the blame was on his shoulders! It was within his full right to ask for that if he was going to accept it was all his fault. So he tried to tell himself, but he knew he would forgive Arthur regardless. He just couldn't stand the thought of his best friend being mad at him forever.

The clock struck half six. There had been no reply. Arthur had apparently withdrawn his forgiveness. Alfred returned to his desk and finished writing the essay. On Monday, it had not even taken the old bitch the full lesson to mark it. It was handed back to him with a blaringly bright 'F' scribbled at the top and the detention he knew was coming. Alfred couldn't bring himself to care.

On the way home after his detention, he switched his phone off to avoid his mother's angry inquiries. He stopped off in the pharmacy and bought a packet of hay fever tablets. When he walked past the river, he threw the packet in the water and felt strangely sad as he watched it float away until it was lost to the horizon. He would never see it again.

* * *

Feliciano wanted to cry tears of joy as he looked upon his beautiful creation. It had taken three days, which he supposed wasn't really that long compared to the time that professional dressmakers would spend on their work. This wasn't a dress though. It was Lovino's turtle costume.

He had worked his butt off and it had been worth every drop of sweat. The way Lovino had snapped at him when he took his measurements was forgotten. He no longer believed that his clothes-making skills were mediocre at best. In fact, he was seriously considering a career in it. This was a thing of beauty, a work of art.

On Saturday, he had swept through all the shops in town like a small hurricane until he finally found a pair of footie pyjamas to form the base of the costume, which were a lovely shade of forest green and went nicely with Lovi's hazel eyes. Chicken wire which he had received from his grandfather had been meticulously bent into the shape of a shell, covered in papier-mâché (Lovi had looked terrified when he asked him to do it, though he didn't know why) and after a day's drying, he had painted it brown and added gloss to give it that eye-catching shine. The hexagonal pattern of the wire had a nice impression, much to his delight.

After adjusting the sleeves to make them look more like flippers, he had sewn a piece of fabric onto the front of the pyjama's to make it look like Lovi had a scaly stomach. The finishing touch had been attaching the shell (which was very lightweight) to the onsie, and finally, he had his perfect costume. The journey had been long and painstaking, but he regretted nothing. He had known it was a genius idea. It had just taken his brother a little while to realise how right he was.

"Lovi~!" he cried excitedly. "It's finished!"

Lovino couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the mannequin (another of Roma's strange possessions that he didn't want to question) standing in Feliciano's room. Or more accurately, he couldn't believe what the mannequin was wearing. He had to give his younger brother credit; it looked far better than how he had pictured it. The agonising amount of detail Feli had included was shocking. "You _made_ this?" he gasped.

"Ve~" The exhausted Feli nodded at an insane speed. He was going to give himself a serious injury if he kept it up.

"It's amazing," he admitted. As much as he was impressed by Feli's hard work (and he was) and as much as the effort put in touched him (and it did) he felt a slight resentment towards the outfit. There was no way he could ever refuse to wear it now.

Upon hearing his brother's final judgement, Feliciano collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost right after his head hit the pillow. Lovino smiled at the contented snores that wafted from the bed and pulled the duvet over Feli's sleeping form, like his mother would do for them when they were younger.

He crept out of the room and made his way to the kitchen, where he rustled up a mug of hot chocolate for himself, complete with mini marshmallows and squirty cream on top. He settled down on the sofa in the living room and switched on the TV. Not caring that he probably had a cream moustache, he drank the delicious beverage in peace as he watched Don't Tell the Bride. Everyone likes a bit of trash TV from time to time.

His grandfather wandered in halfway through the groom's meltdown over what dress to pick and joined Lovino on the cosy sofa. He didn't speak, and sat as far away from him as possible. Lovino was about to make a snarky remark, but realised sadly that it was his own fault that the distance between them had become so vast. He should be the one to bridge the gap.

"How has work been?" he asked when the silence was starting to stifle him.

Roma looked at Lovino in shock. He hadn't tried to speak to him in so long; he couldn't even remember when it had been. And it was not his age starting to catch up with him. "We had a slight problem with the fir sapling shipment last week, but no other hiccups have come up. The Christmas tree will be a little smaller than usual this year."

"So the harvest went well?"

"One of the best years we've ever had," Roma grinned. "That's why your cooking has been so delizioso recently; i miei pomodori speciali! You'll make a fantastic chef one day."

"Grazie," Lovino replied, meaning it.

Absolutely thrilled that they had not started to fight yet, Roma chanced his arm and decided to ask Lovino about himself. "How have you been? Are things going well with your new counsellor?"

"He's not really new anymore," Lovino chuckled softly. "But… He's been great. I-I mean, he's much better than all the others. It's not that I like him! Or hate him! He's just… He's just…"

"He's just different?" Roma suggested. He resisted the urge to laugh and ruffle his grandson's hair. The uncharacteristic stutter and vibrant blush that painted his cheeks was very endearing indeed; he had never seen it before. Who was this man that reduced the ever-stony Lovino to a fumbling mess? It wasn't hard to work out why he had that effect. Lovino may as well have had a neon sign floating above his head, shouting it out for the whole world to see. He just wanted to know who he was.

Lovino nodded in the same way as Feliciano had earlier until his neck started to hurt. His strange behaviour was embarrassing him, but he couldn't help it. He was grateful to his grandfather for not questioning him about it. "I should go to bed," he blurted out. It was only half nine, but Roma had more tact than to mention that.

Somehow managing not to trip on his way out, he crawled into bed and snuggled into the fur of his faithful old bear, Boris. It was one of the very few things he had to remember his father by. As far as he was concerned, you were never too old for a teddy bear. He would never consider getting rid of Boris.

"My head feels so screwed up," he grumbled into the bear's tattered ear. "Why does he do this to me? I can't think properly when I'm around him, and I always feel so nervous. And then he smiles and it all goes away. God, I'm so fucking confused."

Great. He may as well castrate himself, grow a pair of boobs and start reading the gossip columns of those stupid teen magazines. Maybe he could write in a letter detailing his oh-so-awful problem. Or he could grab a bucket of ice-cream and cry all about it whilst watching Finding Nemo.

Boris' one eye was bulging horrifically and Lovino realised he had been one the receiving end of a bone crushing hug that may well have exceeded Feli standards. He apologised profusely to the bear – a perfectly natural reaction – and changed into his pyjamas, which consisted of an old t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. Last week, because of the warm weather, he had slept in his underwear. He was glad the temperature had started to drop again. Sleeping in his underwear was too exposing. Slowly but surely, his brain stopped thinking coherently and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_He didn't want to leave Italy. He liked it here. His friends were here. He was happy here. Papà had gone somewhere. They couldn't leave. What if he came back and couldn't find them? Lovino might never see him again, and he didn't want that. Mamma wept when he screamed in protest. His baby brother was frightened by the loud sounds and bawled his eyes out, squeezing every last drop of air from his lungs._

_His mamma was on the phone again to the grandfather he had never met and did not want to meet if it meant leaving Italy. He caught only snippets of the conversation. Something about a debt. Dangerous men. Leaving before it was too late and they came for them, whoever they were. It made no sense._

_Lovino wailed distraughtly, "But papà will miss us. We can't leave papà behind!" He clenched his small fists and beat them off the wall. Camilla rocked the sobbing Feliciano and tried to hold in her own tears._

"_We must go," was all she would say. It was all she said as she packed their lives into a small suitcase. It was all she said as she locked up their so familiar apartment for the final time. It was all she would say as she bundled the three of them into the back of a cramped cab._

_Lovino didn't understand any of it. He watched the home he so loved disappear as they turned the corner. He cried for the loss of his friends, his home, his world. Most of all he cried for his papà, whom he feared he would never see again. He was only three. Yet he still felt the crushing pain when reality sunk in, mere minutes later._

_It was all gone._

* * *

"Lovino-san." Lovino turned when he felt his sleeve being tugged at and choked on a rising scream when he saw the horrific creature he was met with. The eyes were bloodshot and sunken back into their sockets. The yellow, jaundiced skin was practically melting off the skull and a slimy black tongue poked out from the haphazard mouth with blocky teeth and papery lips.

He leapt back and grabbed onto the nearest weapon, which was, unfortunately, a pen. "What the fuck do you want?" he snarled. He knew it wasn't real. He was boiling over in anger at the fact that someone had the gall to try and scare him. He raised the pen in a threatening manner.

The creature was moved over to the side and Kiku emerged from behind it. He apologised in rapid fire Japanese and bowed like he was greeting royalty. "I did not mean to frighten you. I was just wondering where I should leave this."

"Mio Dio, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Lovino breathed. "You can ask Feliks over there. He's the one co-ordinating everything."

"Arigatou." Kiku rushed over to the flamboyant blonde (now that he thought about it, he reminded Lovino of Francis in that way) who was complaining very loudly about being responsible for the haunted tour to his Lithuanian boyfriend. Apparently, because of the job, he had very little time to plan his outfit.

"It's so, like, dumb. Seriously Liet, I was gonna look totally amazing. God, I'm so pissed!" Toris nodded dutifully as Feliks took the creature from Kiku and walked out of the room. His complaints could still be heard when he was halfway down the hallway.

Lovino went back to stacking boxes, refusing to check what was in them. He was unable to face the terrors. "I do not think our plan to help Alfred-san and Arthur-san make up worked very well," Kiku mumbled as he joined Lovino in his task.

Lovino looked to the door at the other end of the room. Alfred and Arthur were in charge of ticking things off a checklist before they left the room. They were supposed to be working together, but they weren't communicating at all, not even with the stony glares they were so fond of the week before. "No, it didn't," he frowned.

"I knew we were out of place. All we have done is make matters worse," Kiku fretted.

"We were just trying to be good friends." Yes, Lovino tried to be a good friend. Alfred may have got on his nerves a lot, but it was no more than Feli. And he hated arguing with his brother, so he had some idea of what Arthur must feel like, since the Briton and the American were just as close as him and Feli. "It's not our fault that they can't grow up and get over it." Okay, so he was still working on the whole 'being a good friend' angle. "You know they'll sort it out soon. They always do."

"I hope you are right." Looking at Arthur and Alfred as they were now, you could almost see the wall between them if you squinted hard enough.

_If they can get past their difficulties, anyone can,_ Lovino thought to himself.

* * *

It was Thursday night, it was nearly nine o'clock and it was cold. In more ways than one. Out of all their friends, Alfred and Arthur had the misfortune to arrive at the same time, before everyone else. They stood at the school gates, coughing awkwardly every now and then. They pretended to be interested in everyone else's Halloween outfits as they ambled past, but they weren't really.

Arthur could feel Alfred staring at him. It made him shiver. He didn't want to look, because he knew what he'd see. He'd see that Alfred's costume was a little too tight on him. He'd see the well-defined chest that would feel so amazing to snuggle into. He'd see the arms that had just the right amount of muscle, and then his mind would wander and think about how amazing it would feel to have those arms embracing him.

Ah shit, his mind had already gone walkabout. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. There was no point in lying to himself, even though it could have made things easier. What did it matter if Alfred would have done well investing in a bigger costume? Hell, he would take full advantage of the view when he knew Alfred wasn't looking. Arthur loved how Alfred was nearly an adult, yet he still dressed up as a superhero and walked around with his head held high.

Except his head was bowed down. And he knew he was the one responsible. Why couldn't he have answered that stupid text? Why couldn't he face Alfred? Why couldn't he just do the right thing? Why couldn't he just…

"I'm sorry."

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry." Alfred chewed his lip childishly. It was adorable, as was the blush that was creeping across his face. Arthur was lost for words. It was always him that apologised first, not Alfred. Maybe that would have been how he wanted it before this fight, but now that it was happening, all he was able to think about was how he had started it and their roles should be reversed right now, because this was wrong.

"You were right. I called you that day 'cause I wanted your answers, not your company. And you were nice enough to help me, even though you probably knew it. Then I threw it in your face, and it wasn't the first time I've ever done it either. So I'm sorry."

"No, not at all," Arthur finally managed to say. "The whole ordeal started because of me. I'm just as much to blame as you are. Probably more. I acted like a brat. I'm very sorry. I've been sorry ever since I walked out of that room; I just wasn't brave enough to say it."

Oh, the grin. Alfred had such perfect teeth. "That's why I'm the hero, and you're the… Uh… What are you?"

Arthur suddenly felt very self-conscious. He had thought it was obvious. Even his mother had agreed with him! Maybe it was a Kirkland family thing. He was dressed like the perfect Victorian gent: the lapels of his dinner jacket had been ironed for ten minutes by his mother, just to make sure (whatever that meant), he had tied his bow tie with expert skill, and he had a smart top hat perched proudly atop his head. He had gone so far as to remove all his piercings and dye his hair back to its natural honey blonde.

The whole ensemble had been found in a dusty corner of his grandfather's very cluttered attic. It had belonged to the man before that. It was a wonder that it had escaped the moths, the mould, and his grandmother's overwhelming need to rid the house of everything that wasn't be used.

It was as if Arthur had walked straight out of a Charles Dickens or Jane Austen novel. Even the bag in his hand belonged back in the nineteenth century.

The only problems were the knife in his hand that was dripping with an ominous red liquid, the same red liquid that was splattered all over his otherwise impeccable waistcoat and shirt, the few odd specks spattered on his face, and the gloves that were stained with it. It was a plastic knife, and the blood was fake, but he had thought it was clear.

"I'm Jack the Ripper," he said disdainfully. "Oh God, now I just look like a blood-stained, old-fashioned mad man!"

"But I thought Jack the Ripper _was_ all that," Alfred tried to ease his friend's worries. "It's a good costume Artie, it is! I can tell you worked very hard on it. And look at your hair!" He took the liberty of running his hands through the choppy mop. Arthur thought he would spontaneously combust and burn until not even ashes remained.

"I-I dyed it back," he mumbled, unable to look away from Alfred's bright eyes that made him look like he had stolen a piece of the sky.

"I prefer it like this," Alfred nodded, not sensing Arthur's failing heart at all. "I mean, green is nice and all, but it's nothin' like this. I know that people looked at you more with it, but you don't need them. I was already lookin' at you."

Alfred finally realised what his words were implying. He let go of Arthur as though he had been clutching a bomb. "I mean, you should keep it. It's nice. You'll get all the ladies like that. Or you could keep it green, if you like green. Green's a great colour. All fresh and stuff. Just like grass! Or… Uh… I'll just shut up now."

The incessant rambling was a nervous habit of Alfred's that didn't really show itself very often, since Alfred's ego was so massive that it left very little room for self-doubt. Arthur loved the idea that he was the one that made him feel that way. Moments like this made it feel like his love maybe not be as unrequited as he believed.

But it was. Alfred struggled to sense his own feelings, never mind the feelings of another person.

"It's quite a hassle to re-dye it every two months. I have to pay for it out of my own pocket, and I've woke up a few times to see my mother leaning over me with a pair of scissors in hand." He shuddered. The first time it had happened, he had let out a very unmanly scream and shoved his pillow in her face, which had not gone down well. Considering she was the one planning to bald him in his sleep, he thought it was well within his rights to give her a face full of pillow. "I think you may be right."

"The hero is always right!" Arthur was glad to hear Alfred's annoying nasally laugh. For all the hero rubbish he put out, his laugh was more alike to that of a super villain's. But he would never burst the egotistical American's bubble like that; he was just too nice.

"It looks like you two are friends again." It was one of those rare occasions where Kiku let his emotions show on his face. You could practically see the relief sparkling around him as he walked calmly up to the two dressed as Link from the Legend of Zelda. "I am very glad to see it."

Arthur had no idea who Kiku was supposed to be, but Alfred clearly did, if the way he was admiring over it was any indication. Honestly, it was like watching two girls gushing about the latest fashion. It made him feel a little jealous.

Meanwhile, a car pulled up outside the gates. Arthur could hear two very loud voices coming from inside it. There was no questioning who those voices belonged to.

"I'm not going!"

"Fratello, you _promised_!"

"I did not! I said I would think about it, and now that I've thought about it, I've decided no. I'll just go home and stay there."

"Lovino…" Feliciano's voice trailed off and Arthur couldn't hear the rest of the argument. Minutes later, Feliciano emerged, all sunshine and rainbows in his 'My Little Pony' costume. It didn't really surprise Arthur to know that Feli was a brony. He pulled off the Pinky Pie look wonderfully with his childish carefree air.

Ludwig followed him as a very convincing Frankenstein. With a stoic face like that, his height that meant he towered over most and the intimidating muscles, the German didn't have to try very hard to look the part. His face was even paler than usual, which made the ragged red fake scars stand out and for the first time ever, he had allowed his hair to fall over his face instead of slicking it back. Feliciano whispered in his ear that he looked very handsome and he spluttered some rushed German phrases in return. Arthur suddenly got the impression that Feliciano would fall into the sexual predator category of drunks.

Lovino looked strangely haunted as he finally climbed out of the car. Arthur covered his mouth in an attempt to disguise the giggles that were threatening to overcome him as a coughing fit. He was a turtle. Lovino Vargas, who had never worn more than an eye patch to the Scare Fest, was a turtle. _A turtle._

"I want to go home," he grumbled. However, it was too late. The car had shot off at criminal speed. It must have been Lovino's grandfather driving. He was stuck here for the night, whether he liked it or not. And he was making it very clear that he didn't like it in the slightest. Arthur could hear his grinding teeth and feel the emanating rage from where he stood. He made a mental note not to make fun of the Italian's appearance. He wanted to keep his head.

So here they were. A serial killer, a hero, a monster, a brony, a boy in a pointy green cap and _a turtle_. Now, didn't that just sound like the beginning of a terrible joke? "Dudes!" Alfred announced loudly. "Let the Halloween fun begin!"

* * *

**Gah, this didn't really turn out how I imagined it. I ended up writing too much USUK again! Let me just stress that it is relevant to later on. I promise you! Also, I've just finished writing the next chapter. Don't get your hopes up for the horror aspect of it; I now know that writing scary shit is something I should stay away from. But I'll have that up ASAP!**

**Thanks again for all your costume suggestions. Arthur's costume idea came from Rose Thourn, Lillipnillilip suggested Frankenstein for Ludwig, Dancing Shadows Alchemist suggested some form of cosplay for Kiku and a couple of you suggested Alfred should be a superhero of some sort. So thank you very much! I've never watched My Little Pony, even though I intended to do it over summer, but I do know what Pinky Pie is like. That's why I chose that outfit for Feli! Have you guys ever noticed how My Little Pony sometimes turns up in the suggestions alongside Hetalia videos? I have!**

**It's Sunday, which means tomorrow is Monday, which means I am back to school. Guess what? Life actually exists. I totally forgot. I'm heading into fifth year, which is set to be a pretty hectic year. I have my GCSEs in June. If you've ever read Harry Potter, GCSEs are like OWLs. If you still don't know what I mean, they're very important exams and I'll be busy with studying and stuff. Unfortunately, that means I have no idea what my writing schedule is going to work out like. I'd like to promise weekly updates, but I can't say for sure. I apologise in advance for slow activity! Hopefully it won't take me too long to settle into a routine, but don't hold your breath.**

**Man, this ended up being a really long A/N XD Thanks for reviewing (69 reviews WUT I love you guys :'D) and adding this to your alerts/favourites. I'm off to dye my hair and sort my uniform, so I'll see you when I see you!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven- I'm Not Scared!**

_Turn this shit off_. That was Lovino's first thought as he reluctantly stepped into the main hall. As if the humiliating costume wasn't bad enough. The upbeat temp of the song only darkened his mood. He didn't object to happy music on a general basis; no, he was guilty of lip syncing along with 'Baby' if it was playing on the radio, he was alone and he was in particularly good spirits. But he was miserable right now, and the cheery music only further reminded him of that.

The celebrations were already in full swing and the music was pounding in his ears. The thump-thump-thump of the bass made it feel like his whole body was vibrating. It felt like if he stayed in here for too long, it was likely his ears may start to bleed. People were crushed together, yelling over the music. Someone shoved him to the side and he began to feel slightly claustrophobic.

_Oh, fuckfuckfuck_. That was Lovino's second thought as a certain Spaniard came bounding towards him in a way that reminded him of an overexcited puppy. There was multiple reasons Lovino's despair. Number one; Antonio was yelling that embarrassing nickname so loud that the whole room could probably hear it, even over the roaring music.

Number two; he could see Antonio's thought process unfolding from behind those alluring eyes, even from where he stood. He knew he was about to get glomped. And he knew that Antonio would not care if the whole school was watching and he was a teacher and it was not at all appropriate to glomp your students.

Number three; damn, he made a fine pirate. It was better than he had pictured it. A crimson red coat billowed behind him as he ran and the hat he was holding onto so it wouldn't fly away had a spectacular feather attached to it. His white shirt was opened a little farther than necessary – although it gave him a nice view of that swarthy skinned chest – and there was a small silver cross hanging around his neck on a chain. And those trousers. It was going to be a very difficult task to tear his eyes away from Antonio's ass.

Number four; he couldn't actually see Antonio's ass since he was running towards him, and the long coat covered it for the most part, but he could picture it in his mind's eye. It's always a bad sign when you can easily picture someone's ass without looking at it.

"Lovi~!" As he had been too busy thinking about Antonio's attractive backside, he had neglected to dodge the incoming missile. Why was he surrounded by people who couldn't control their hugs? Much to his horror, tears were forming in the corners of Antonio's eyes. "Mi tomate! Eres tan lindo~!"

Most pirates had swords as their weapons of choice, but Antonio had instead gone for a formidable looking axe that Lovino assumed was plastic, since its wielder was waving it around with ease. Because these things are bound to happen, it was inevitable that someone got hit. The unlucky sod who just so happened to wander by at the wrong moment was Yao Wang in a fetching panda suit.

"Aru!" he squeaked as the blade whacked him across the face, not that anyone heard it. He landed on his backside with surprising grace, but the panda head that had been under his arm went flying. There were a few nervous giggles from students who had seen it, and Antonio immediately pushed himself away from Lovino. That stung him a little, but then he remembered that he hadn't wanted to be hugged in the first place. It didn't help very much.

"I am so sorry Yao!" Antonio shouted as he pulled the stunned man up. He winced when he saw the angry red mark on his face that probably hurt like a bitch.

Yao dusted himself off with inhuman dignity. "It's fine. I was just wondering what you were doing hugging a student like that, aru."

Antonio fumbled, completely unable to come up with a good explanation. This was it; he was about to get the sack in front of the whole school. He lowered his head in shame, bracing himself for the final judgement.

"Sir, I was the one who hugged Mr Carriedo, not the other way around."

Lovino wasn't really sure what made him step in and save Antonio from being humiliated. A reflex action, perhaps? But he did it without thinking and he enjoyed the look of shock of the older man's face. It made a change from the goofy grin. He did like that enigmatic smile though.

"Is that so? I know Mr Carriedo is your counsellor and I'm thrilled that you're making good progress, but you can't just hug him like that. Do you understand?" Yao's tone was stern, but Lovino didn't care that he was being scolded. He nodded obediently. Satisfied, Yao went off in search of his lost head.

"Muchas gracias," Antonio said right into Lovino's ear. It made a shiver run down his spine.

"Stupid bastard," he growled, glaring at the pirate. "What were you thinking? People will get the wrong idea if you pull that kind of shit! I saved your ass back there, but I won't do it again! Che." He crossed his arms haughtily and stalked away to find his friends. He hadn't realised that he had lost them somewhere along the line, but he was very glad they weren't there to witness what had just happened.

Spotting Ludwig's head bobbing about in the sea of people wasn't terribly hard. When he joined the group again, Alfred was trying to convince Arthur to dance with him and Feliciano was bouncing around Ludwig. The German had not been blessed with flying feet, so his dancing was just him shuffling around awkwardly. The Frankenstein costume suited him even more like that. As per usual, Kiku was impossible to read. He was staring intensely at the other four, which Lovino found a little weird.

The music stopped and Yao, having recovered his head, stood at a podium on the left of the stage. The crowd booed, but he just rolled his eyes and started to talk. "Welcome to the annual Halloween Scare Fest! It looks like the Student Committee has done a fantastic job again this year, aru. I've just taken one final look around the campus. I hope you're all ready to be scared!" Yao really hated these kinds of talks. The words all sounded so cheesy to him, but he couldn't exactly say things like 'prepare to shit your pants'. Not around the younger students anyway. Besides, it wasn't _that_ scary.

Clearing his throat, he carried on. "Most of you know the drill by now, but I'll explain things for those who might not. Those who want to go on the tour have five minutes to get into groups of ten and line up by the door. A member of staff will also join you-" As with every year, the students voiced their annoyance about having to walk around with a teacher. True, most of the teachers were decent enough, and a few were really cool, but there were one or two out there with a stick shoved up their asses – metaphorically, of course.

Thumping his hand (or paw) against the side of the podium, Yao tried to regain order. "Settle down, aru! Thank you. The groups will leave at ten minute intervals and the tour should last around an hour. You'll come back here afterwards. Whoever doesn't want to go on the tour is welcome to stay in here and dance the night away, but we will kick you out sometime before twelve, aru. That said, have a fun night and enjoy the holidays!"

Yao left the stage and there was a sudden rush as people ran around like headless chickens, trying to find the groups they wanted to be in. Those who didn't want to partake in the tour converged in one large group and waited patiently for everyone else get sorted so the party could start again. Lovino was about to join them, until Alfred jerked him back, nearly ripping his arm from its socket. He whimpered in pain and Alfred let go.

"Sorry dude! I don't know my own strength sometimes. Our group's over here, c'mon." Lovino had no choice but to follow. The group consisted of the usual five, himself included, and five others whom he had seen in class, but he couldn't put names to faces. It didn't matter since Feliciano seemed to know them. Three girls dressed as the Power Puff Girls giggled at him, shallow, high-pitched giggles, and Lovino decided that he didn't like them. One guy's face was obscured by a grim reaper mask and held a plastic knife in hand. The other was laughing along with Feliciano. Ludwig moved a little closer to his boyfriend.

They lined up by the door just like they had been told and one of the girls tried to talk to Lovino. "So," she simpered. "I'm Tina, and this is Ruth and Gracie. You're Lovino, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he grumped. Tina pouted annoyingly and he could see that it was going to harder than that to get rid of her. Her blonde pigtails swung from side to side as she nodded along with the music that had started up again. Thankfully, it was much quieter than before.

"Ooh, I love Nicki Minaj! Isn't her new song so amazing?"

If that was her attempt at trying to get him to dance, Lovino tried very hard not to laugh in her face. "I haven't heard it."

Gracie pursed her lips, putting one hand on her hip like a Little Tina Clone. She looked like she was impersonating a fish. "The lyrics are just so original. I totally love her."

If Lovino was hearing correctly, Nicki had just said something about sitting with Anna and how it was not a metaphor, she was really just sitting with Anna. It didn't sound too inspired to him. No, it sounded like Nicki would benefit greatly from being slapped across the face with a very heavy dictionary.

"Whatever." Why couldn't these stupid girls see he didn't want to talk? He didn't even want to be here!

"Are you a turtle? Or are you a tortoise? I could never tell the difference. It's so confusing!" Ruth stomped her foot to emphasise her confusion. Lovino wished for a brick.

Just as Lovino thought he really was about to blow a fuse at the immensely irritating threesome, Feliciano cheered loudly. "We got Toni~! Ve~" Sure enough, Antonio was looking down at him happily. Lovino didn't know what to feel.

"¡Hola amigos! I'm Mr Carriedo, but you can call me Antonio. Don't tell the other teachers, ¿de acuerdo?" He winked at them and there was a strange tightening sensation in Lovino's chest that he put down to heartburn.

"So hot…" Ruth said rather conspicuously. The three in the back were practically drooling over the Spaniard, which annoyed Lovino to no end for some reason. Antonio noticed their attention and looked away nervously. Or maybe it was the way Lovino was staring at them, his eyes narrowed to thin slits. It was predatory and it was kind of hot.

_Bad, bad,_ he chided himself. _Don't take advantage of the dark corridors._

"It's our turn to leave," Ludwig pointed out.

"Sí, you're right. Follow me. Stick with the group and don't get lost! It'd be a bother if I had to come find you." Subconsciously, his eyes shifted over to Lovino and the Italian blushed at his gaze.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Once outside, the only source of light was the full moon. The surrounding buildings were basked in the eerie silver glow and as they walked towards the pitches, the trees that lined the path were silhouetted against the velvet sky and seemed to reach for them with their skeletal limbs.

Feliciano whimpered and clung to Ludwig's arm for dear life. "Why are we going this way?" he whined.

"We have to go this way to get to the technology department," Antonio told him. "Look, we're nearly there." They stopped before the door that was swinging on its hinges. The creeks sounded like someone dragged their nails down an old-fashioned blackboard. He couldn't see what was in there.

Antonio was not scared of ghosts or murderers, and so held no reservations about going in. But when he looked back at the group, he saw Ludwig trying to comfort Feliciano and Alfred holding onto the back of Arthur's coat very tightly. Mask Boy and Laughing Boy were unreadable, as was Kiku. The three girls in the back were all holding hands and huddling together like frightened animals. Lovino was staring ahead with wide eyes. He looked like he was about to run off with his tail between his legs.

Wait, turtles don't have tails. Oh Dios, would Lovino look good with a tail.

"Should we go in?" Anything to get those images out of his head. He was a teacher and Lovino was his student and this was wrong and he should know better, really now.

The girl in the green dress tried to grab Lovino and he darted to the front, right up beside Antonio. Right where he didn't want to be. He didn't want Antonio to see him scared, but this was better than the three stooges bringing up the rear. "Let's get this over with," he grimaced. The sooner he got home, the better. He swallowed dryly and stepped into the darkness after Antonio. It was so silent. All he could hear was his own heart beating in his still funny chest. Could everyone else hear it too?

Looking around, he was nearly overcome with the desire to make a run for it. It was still, too still. The footsteps echoed off the walls. Suddenly, there was a loud buzz in the workshop as the belt sander turned itself on with a roar. He gave a short cry of surprise, which was mostly covered by Feli's screams. But Antonio had apparently heard it, and he gave him a concerned look.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Lovino looked away, ashamed he had let the cracks in his armour, or rather, shell, show.

"I'm fine, bastard." Antonio didn't look very convinced, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. The issue's name was Feliciano. Tears ran down his face and Ludwig seemed to be having trouble breathing due to the way Feli had his arms wrapped around his neck. Lovino didn't even question how he was able to reach.

"It's a ghost!" Feli screeched. "It's coming to kill us all! I knew I should have brought my white flag! Luddy, I don't want to _die_!" Ludwig managed to pry him off his neck and held him at arm's length. When he started shaking him, Lovino vaguely wonder whether or not he should intervene. Oh, it would probably knock some sense into him. He'd be _just_ _fine_.

"Feliciano, get a hold of yourself. We haven't been here two minutes and you're already having a breakdown. Do you really think I would let anything bad happen to you?" Feliciano stopped making the ungodly racket and sniffled, shaking his head. Ludwig sighed and handed him a tissue, which the smaller boy accepted gratefully. "Gut." He coughed loudly offered his hand. Feliciano took it with a watery smile.

Despite the way Lovino hugely disliked the German, he had to admit it. He made his brother happy and that was something he couldn't always do himself. Maybe Ludwig was good for something after all.

With the crisis averted, they started to walk again. "Your brother is so cute. I wish I had a sugar cube on me~! I wonder if that would cheer him up?" Antonio chuckled at his own (not very funny) joke. Lovino bit his tongue to stop the snapped remark that was threatening to emerge, settling for a burning scowl.

Couldn't the stupid man make his mind up? Who was cute? Of course, he probably preferred Feliciano over him. That was always how it went. He should be used to this. Yet it bothered him so much.

_Shut up and accept the facts_, he told himself. _Stop making a mountain out of a molehill_.

Having been distracted by his inner dialogue and jumbled feeling, Lovino hadn't been paying very much attention to where they were headed. They had passed through the technology department without any further incident and were now in the geography corridor. Christ, if he hated the geography corridor in the daylight, it had nothing on how he felt about it at night.

There were no windows along the corridor walls, just a few skylights on the ceiling. Instead of being covered with glass, they were covered with a crude translucent plastic that didn't let much light in. As a result, the corridor was very dimly lit. The lockers that lined the walls made hallway feel very cramped. It was almost as if the walls were closing in on them. Lovino's breathing quickened as he started to feel a little panicky. Something was going to happen. He just knew it.

And how right he was. They were halfway down the hallway when a scratching noise came from behind them. They all turned, thoroughly spooked. There was nothing. The noise stopped and started again moments later. It was louder. It was no longer just a scratching. There was a faint tapping. Although Lovino didn't realise it, his feet were bringing him closer and closer to Antonio. He may have been angry with him, but that didn't change the fact he made him feel safe.

"What even is that?" Alfred whined softly. He moved behind Arthur.

"As the hero, shouldn't _you_ be protecting _me_?" Arthur remarked. He received no reply.

The tapping was gone. But that wasn't all, surely. It felt off. He stayed rooted to the spot, even when Antonio tried to attract his attention. Without warning, a locker door slammed open and something fell out onto Gracie. Her squeal was so high pitched, it was a miracle dogs could hear it, let alone people. She pushed it away and latched onto Laughing Boy, who looked very pleased with himself.

It fell into a small patch of light and Lovino saw that it was the hideous creature that had scared the living daylights out of him the other day. Kiku poked at it curiously and it _groaned_. Alfred and Feliciano took that as their cue to leave and the rest followed behind them without much objection. Not that Ludwig or Arthur had much say in the matter, as they were practically dragged away.

Lovino wished that someone would speak, but the only sounds were Feliciano's short sniffles and their feet as they climbed up the stairs. The doors that let them into a short corridor were silent as they pushed them open, but they shut with a damning slam behind them. There was a quiet click as they locked themselves. No way back. It looked like their next stop was the library.

"This isn't scary at all," Mask Boy grumbled. It was the first time he had spoken. "All we've come across so far is some malfunctioning machinery and a shitty zombie. What's next, plastic spiders and a person in a sheet? This is a fucking joke."

For all his complaining and the potty mouth, the boy could easily have been Lovino. He looked at him and felt a little like he was looking into a mirror. Of course, he knew he wasn't; the boy was much taller than him, in a stringy way, as though he'd been stretched by one of those medieval torture devices. But the complaints were annoying, especially the way they kept coming. Now that he had opened his mouth, it seemed as though he couldn't shut it.

_This must be what it's like listening to me_, he realised. He made a mental note to cut back on the moaning. It really got on your nerves after a while.

"I'm terrified," Feliciano whispered to the boy.

"Of course you are," he replied in the most patronizing voice Lovino had ever heard. Ludwig looked as though he was about to send the boy flying, but Antonio stepped in before anyone resorted to violence.

"Hey guys, tranquilo, por favor. I think I heard something." He was just trying to distract the group, which worked for the most part. Mask Boy stopped grousing and Ludwig was back to his diligent form, on the lookout for whatever little thing that may send the quaking Italian into meltdown mode. Arthur snapped at Alfred to stop trying to hide behind him and he hid behind the girls instead. Lovino stayed where he was, but Antonio saw him clench and unclench his fists nervously.

They had no choice but to pass through the library in order to reach a door that would let them into the English corridor and outside, where they would move on to the science block. Normally in all the films, the library was the place where something bad happened. However, Antonio was never scared by those silly things and he wouldn't exactly say he was freaked out so far. Sure, a few things had made him jump. But there had been nothing to get his heart pounding.

Again, the library door locked itself as they closed it behind them. Shelves that towered over him were placed in orderly lines across the floor, and surprisingly, the lights were on. Plastic gargoyles, grinning pumpkins and cloudy jars sat in different places, some on the tops of shelves, some on tables and some on the floor. Silly string had been sprayed here and there. Antonio guessed it was supposed to look like spider webs.

The lights flickered a little. "I feel like we're being watched," Tina said.

"Oh my God, really?" Ruth spoke so quickly, Lovino wondered how she didn't stumbled over any of the words.

Tina nodded seriously. "Women's intuition." Bullshit. She was just being paranoid. Although now that she had said it, he felt it too. He hated his mind. First he couldn't stop thinking about how sexy Antonio was and now he was imagining a creepy stalker was coming to kill them all. He seriously needed to get a grip.

"I feel it too," Gracie announced, not wanting to be upstaged by Tina. She squealed as the lights shut off completely.

"Babe, don't worry about it," Laughing Boy said, holding her close. Lovino silently begged him not to say it. "There's probably nothing here. We'll be totally fine, you'll see." Great. He had said it. Now Lovino was sure they were screwed.

"Let's just go," Arthur urged. The group trudged along, only to find the door was locked and there was a yellow post-it note stuck to it. "It looks like we have to find a key," Arthur sighed.

Lovino didn't really want to look for the key on his own. Although he wanted to go with Antonio, he was still annoyed at the Spaniard's last remark. Had he not sworn to tone down the complaints just a few minutes ago? If he went near Antonio now, he would want to make his hurt known. Antonio was enjoying himself; it wasn't Lovino's place to destroy his happiness for the night.

As he was still expecting an axe murderer to burst into the room and chop them all into pieces, he stuck with Ludwig. After all, he was the biggest, so his limbs would take the longest to hack through. It was just a simple precaution. Feli was with him too since he was practically glued to him.

"Look in that pumpkin," the German instructed. He didn't know who he expected would listen between Lovino and Feliciano.

Feliciano did as he was told. He lifted the lid from the pumpkin and stuck his hand inside with a disgusted look on his face. "It's really slimy and I can't feel the key at all." When he drew his hand out, gunky seeds were sticking to him. He shook them away with a discontented 've'.

It didn't matter how many books Lovino pulled out, or jars he shook, or gargoyles he looked under, he couldn't find the key. It didn't seem like anyone else was having any luck either. The library wasn't particularly big and the places where it could be were limited. As such, the entire place had been scoured in little under five minutes.

"I could not find anything," Kiku said sadly when they regrouped. "I think we should just wait here for someone to let us out. They do not want two groups bumping into each other." Unfortunately, Kiku's idea was the best anyone could come up with.

The door handle rattled loudly. Gracie yelped, but Laughing Boy, being Laughing Boy, simply laughed. "See, the titch was right!" Kiku frowned at the offensive nickname. It wasn't his fault he was shorter than most. "I bet that's someone to let us out now."

If they had been in a horror film, Lovino knew that Laughing Boy would have been the first to go. The door handle was still rattling, and Lovino wasn't so sure if it _was_ someone come to rescue them. Surely they would have a key and be able to let themselves in easily? Maybe the door was just old and rickety. Yes, that was it.

Laughing Boy walked up to the door. He grabbed the handle. He turned it slowly. Lovino's mouth was dry.

"YEAH!" Masked Boy exploded into the room with a deafening shout and everyone nearly jumped out of their skins. He waved the knife around so fast it was almost a blur. "LET'S CUT SHIT UP!"

Feliciano dived under the table and covered his ears, rocking slightly. "He'sbackhe'sbackohDiomisalviLovihe'sback." Feliciano uttered the words over and over, his voice cracking and nothing Ludwig was doing could snap him out of the catatonic trance. He whimpered and fought as Ludwig tried to touch him or comfort him in any way.

Antonio tried his best too, offering sweet words in a beautifully calming tone. But there was nothing that could get through to the boy. They were all so distracted by Feliciano, nobody noticed Lovino.

* * *

Mamma was there. Feli was hiding somewhere and Lovino couldn't see him, thank God. That meant the masked man couldn't see him either. Lovino was sinking to his knees, an invisible force pushing him down. The masked man was standing over him, laughinglaughinglaughing, and it made him want to be sick. The bastard saw humour in the situation. There was bile rising in his throat and he was choking on it. Or was he chocking on the scream that was trying to push past his lips?

He didn't want to look, yet he couldn't tear his eyes from what lay before him. He couldn't even blink. It made his eyes water, as did the shock that was resonating from his very core. Then there was the consuming grief. The guilt. And the trauma, let's not forget the trauma. He was young, but he knew he could never forget this. This night would be imprinted on his brain and it would not leave him for as long as he lived.

She was bleeding and it was his fault. She was hurt and it was his fault. The masked man was telling him that, and he was right. She was deadgonenevercomingback and _it was his fault_.

The scream finally showed itself. It burnt his throat and he felt raw after mere seconds. When he asked for a saviour, he had not meant this.

It was tight, it was dark, it was horrible. His chest was hurting and his lungs were begging for air, but he couldn't breathe. He was gulping for precious oxygen, but he couldn't take anything in. Not the air, not where he was, not what was happening, nothing.

And then, there was black.

* * *

**So this is what happens when I try to write horror. I think I've learnt a valuable lesson; DON'T DO IT. I know the three girls I randomly included are very Mary Sue-ish (they're not anyone special, by the way). I'm sorry if this chapter seemed to fall short of the usual standard, but there were a few things that I wanted to include in this chapter that I felt were important, so I ignored my own misgivings and ended up with this. As a way of making it up to you all, I'll try my best to work some fluff into the next chapter.**

**The start of my week was a bit mad. I never sleep in, but I somehow managed to do it on Tuesday. The teachers were all trying their best to scare us into working hard, and it worked for the most part. Emphasis on that last part there. I should really be reading Pride and Prejudice right now, but this suddenly seemed more important than my education when I sat down with the book and Mr Collins popped up. MR COLLINS. GAH.**

**Thank you all for your reviews and alerts! They cheered me up in one of those 'OHMYGODHOWDOIEVENICAN'TDOITBLAH' moments. I was revising for a maths test! So thank you very much indeed, you lovely lot :D**

**Have a nice week!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve- A Meeting, Not a Date**

It went from black to white as Lovino opened his eyes. Ah, white. He still hated the colour with a passion. It took a few blinks, but the frosted glass effect went away and his eyes focused on his unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying on a raised bench (it wasn't very comfortable), but it seemed that he was in an office, if the out-of-date calendars, discarded coffee mugs and shiny computer were any indication. Unlike Antonio's office, this room lacked a personal touch. It was cold and detached.

Antonio chose that moment to peer into the room. The way he poked his head around the door was similar to that of someone who was afraid of awaking a terrifying beast. Lovino worried when the Spaniard's trademark smile didn't make its appearance. "How are you feeling?" Antonio asked tentatively.

"A little out of it, but I'll survive. I just need to sleep it off." He slid off the bench and reached into his pocket for his phone, intending on ringing his grandfather. Feli had the wits to sew a pocket onto the costume, thankfully.

"I've already called your grandfather," Antonio said. "He should be here soon." He couldn't have been out for that long if Roma had still to arrive, since their house was only a short drive away. "Feli is outside with Ludwig. We managed to calm him down after you fainted, but he's not doing so great."

Oh, that was right. Masked Boy, stupid Masked Boy. It was his fault that Feliciano had a breakdown. If he ever found out who the dick under the mask was, he'd need to wear the mask again to cover what Lovino planned to do to his face, as revenge for his brother and also for his own sake.

"You must think I'm pathetic, the way I fainted like that," he muttered. It was a rhetorical statement; of course Antonio thought that. He was probably disgusted. Hell, _Lovino_ had been thinking that for the past six years. He should have known it was only a matter of time before any illusions Antonio held about him were shot down, and his true self was revealed.

He was a coward who found it hard to help himself, never mind anyone else. He couldn't protect those he loved when they needed it most. He was good for nothing, a waste of space.

"Why would you say that?" Antonio asked. His face near damn broke Lovino's heart. How could someone smile so brilliantly, yet hold a world of hurt in their eyes? "I don't think that at all. Lovino, I know why you fainted. I know why Feli flipped out. Pathetic is not the word I would use to describe you or your brother."

There it was. There was the sympathy. God, he thought Antonio _understood_. Sympathy just made him angry, and he found himself shouting. "But I couldn't do anything! I was useless! I just watched it happen, and there was nothing I could do! I tried to help, I did, and look where that got me!"

"I don't think we're talking about the same thing anymore," Antonio said quietly.

He was right, Lovino knew that. "No, I guess we're not. But _thanks_, Antonio. You were a better brother to Feli than I was tonight. I was pathetic, and you were great. I don't blame you for choosing to help Feli instead of helping me." His head was starting to hurt and he was really regretting yelling at Antonio. All he wanted now was to go home.

"What do you mean?" Antonio frowned in confusion "I didn't choose Feli over you. I'm really sorry for not noticing you were in pain, but I didn't ignore you on purpose!"

"Don't even bother apologising. I get it, you like him better than me. Who doesn't? You couldn't shut up about how cute he was and you were worrying about him the whole time. Jesus, I can't believe I ever thought you cared about me." Even though he had been thinking it for a while now, it hurt to admit it out loud. The fact that he was saying it directly to Antonio made it even worse.

Antonio was no longer frowning, but glaring at Lovino angrily. "I _do_ care about you! I probably care too much! How can you even say that?"

"Because it's the truth."

"It's not the-"

The argument was interrupted as Kiku opened the door and bowed. "Sensei. Lovino-san, your grandfather is waiting for you outside."

"You don't have to call me sensei. You can just call me Antonio," Antonio told the boy gently, grateful that the stupid fight had been stopped. Kiku looked affronted by the idea of calling a teacher by his first name, even though Antonio wasn't really a teacher. He left quickly. "I know this is sudden," Antonio said, turning to Lovino. "But could I have your number? We really need to talk about this."

"You want my number?" Lovino repeated incredulously. Secretly, he was also glad the argument had been stopped. He had sounded so petty. Maybe they could continue this without the yelling next time.

It was such a strange enough occurrence that _anyone_ wanted his number, that was what surprised him more than the fact it was Antonio asking. He bit his lip, and made a snap decision that he would probably regret later. "I need to go now, but I'll send you a text tomorrow and you can get it that way. Is that okay?"

He had hoped it would make up for his childishness and put the smile back on Antonio's face; he was still attractive, but he practically glowed when he grinned. It seemed wrong to see him wear an expression that belonged on his own face. But it didn't show itself. "That sounds good," he replied sombrely. "Do you need me to walk you to the gates?"

"I'm fine," Lovino replied, somewhat disheartened. Antonio didn't question him and didn't say goodbye when he waved as he walked out of the door.

* * *

Halfway to his grandfather's car, Lovino suddenly felt like he'd been hit by a brick wall. The exhaustion was stupefying. Fortunately, Alfred was on his way to the office to find him and he supported Lovino for the rest of the way. Lovino thanked him and practically fell into the car.

Feliciano was asleep. Understandably, Roma was seething with rage, absolutely livid. The older Vargas brother realised where he got his temper from. He rambled in angry Italian, though Lovino wasn't taking much of it in. He nodded his head along, but the motion was rather hypnotic and it only made him feel even more tired than before.

Finally, they were home. Roma's expression softened as he lifted the snoozing Feliciano and carried him into the house. Lovino stumbled up the stairs after them and nearly cried tears of joy when he saw his bed. He abandoned the turtle costume and pulled on an old t-shirt and his pyjama bottoms. He would have slept in the costume if it were not for the shell. Yes, he could have slept on his stomach, but that was just uncomfortable.

He was in the middle of a wonderful dream when he was awoken by the shifting of his mattress. "What the hell," he grumbled, moving over to make room for Feliciano. A lazy look at the alarm clock on his bedside table told him it was nearly five in the morning.

"I woke up and I couldn't get back to sleep," Feli explained groggily. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Doesn't matter… What's bothering you?" There was no point in turning over and trying to get back to sleep, not with a worried Feli in his bed. Lovino had been kicked (quite literally) out of his own bed a number of times by his brother when he was having the worst of his nightmares. Even though Feliciano always said he could never remember them in the morning, Lovino knew perfectly well what he had been dreaming of.

"I'm sorry about last night…"

"Scusi?"

"I ruined Halloween." Feliciano sighed heavily. "Everyone was really looking forward to the Scare Fest. The tour wasn't that scary, but I still overreacted. I couldn't help it… Even though I could tell how annoyed everyone else was. Luddy told me it was fine, but I… Fratello, am I annoying?"

They were teenagers now, and it was probably weird for them to cuddle. But Lovino pulled his brother closer and let him rest his head on his shoulder. After all, Feliciano was his baby brother. He always would be. "Yeah, you are annoying."

"Ve… I knew it…"

"But you are also kind, smart, talented, loveable, everything I'm not. It's impossible to hate you, Feli." Sometimes, when he was younger, Lovino had tried to hate his brother. He had been jealous of how everyone always favoured Feliciano over him. Everyone but mamma. But he got over it as he matured. No, he could never hate Feliciano. It was like kicking a puppy. "Nobody blames you," he added softly.

"Grazie, Lovi. But you're wrong. You're just as good as me, if not better. You're my big brother and I've always looked up to you. I think that you'll find someone who thinks the same someday. But you have to start thinking it too."

"You really pick your moments to give sage advice," Lovino said dryly. Confident that he had sated his brother's fears and ignoring his own insecurities as thoughts of his and Antonio's argument came seeping in, he turned over and shut his eyes. Maybe now he could get some sleep.

But Feliciano hadn't quite said his piece yet. "Antonio thinks it."

Lovino shot up. "What? No he doesn't. Don't be stupid. He likes you better than me." It still hurt to say it aloud, a dull throbbing in his chest.

"Now who's being stupid?" Feliciano teased, enjoying his brother's discomfort. "He couldn't take his eyes off you all night! I know _you_ didn't notice; you were too afraid to look at him."

"I was not afraid to look at him!" Lovino protested. "I was just looking out for freaky shit coming our way. There wasn't time to look at Antonio. Not that I wanted to!"

"Ve~ Oh please, I've already been told about your huge crush on him."

"Who the fuck told you that?!"

He could have slapped himself. He almost lip-synced along with the words he knew his brother was about to say. "You did, just now." Feliciano wore the smuggest smile Lovino had ever seen on his face. He scoffed, not wanting to admit defeat, but when he found nothing to say, he slumped back down into the bed and turned away, making sure to take most of the covers with him.

"It's not a huge crush, stupid fratello. It's just a slight preference," he mumbled.

"You wouldn't push him away if he tried to kiss you," Feliciano crooned softly in his ear.

"Shut up." Lovino's face was burning and he suddenly didn't want all those covers so badly. "Go to sleep, Feli."

"I know, I know." Feliciano snuggled as close as Lovino would let him. "Oh, and don't worry. I won't say anything to anyone."

"Shut up," Lovino growled again.

The younger Vargas couldn't help but smile to himself. He wouldn't breathe a word about it to anyone, but their friends had probably worked it out for themselves by now. Well, maybe not Alfred. _Definitely_ not Alfred. He hadn't even noticed the flame Arthur was carrying around for him.

Talking with Lovino always helped him clear his head. It was high time Feliciano did something to help his brother out. But how did one go about setting a student up with a member of staff?

* * *

"You have to text him," Lovino's more reckless side was urging him.

"Don't do it!" screamed Common Sense.

In blatant disregard of Common Sense, Lovino was holding his phone in a sweaty hand. Unfortunately, he had spent the last half hour trying to send a message to Antonio. For some strange reason, he was completely unable to type the right words. He had tried all possible combinations, but everything sounded weird. He stared at the letters on the glowing screen.

'**To: Antonio**

**It's Lovino.'**

Two measly words, that was all they were. That was the best he could come up with. And he still couldn't gather the courage to press send. He could have tried to be upbeat, at least sticking in a smiley face. But it wasn't him.

Now that he thought about it, how _did_ he talk to Antonio? He had never paid much attention to it before, since there had never been any reason to. He was careless with his words.

It felt awkward now, especially because of the argument. What if Antonio was still angry with him? What if he had changed his mind? Thanks to Feli bringing it up, he hadn't thought of much else other than his very confusing feeling for the Spaniard. One half of him was telling him to go for it; you'll never learn if you sit around and mope all day. Be proactive! Antonio is far too nice to hold a grudge!

The other side was telling him to sit down in front of the telly and watch programmes about other people's problems so he would forget about his own. Both were as tempting as the other, and he could not choose.

"Lovi!" Feli bounced into the room, the epitome of all things happy and wonderful. "Get your shoes on, we've- oh, what's this? A message to Antonio? Ve~" Sensing his chance to 'help', he swiped the phone from Lovino's hand and read it in one gleeful glance.

"Give it back!" Lovino yelled. Feli threw the phone back at him, and he stared in disdain. "You _sent_ it?" Oh, how easy it would be wrap his fingers around his brother's neck and watch his face turn a multitude of colours.

Feliciano shrugged nonchalantly, his face deceivingly innocent. "My finger slipped. Now get your shoes on, we're going to Alfred's house."

"Why do I have to go to that bastard's house?" Lovino grumbled.

"Because you have all week to lie around the house. Please, Lovi! For me?"

"I don't owe you jack," he retorted, getting up anyway. Feli was right. He had to at least make a small effort towards being social. Besides, Alfred's house was only a couple of blocks away. It wasn't as if he had to run a marathon to get there.

Roma was out at work, so they made sure to lock the door behind them. "Oh yeah, Kiku said something about a gaming marathon sometime this week too. I hope it's not scary games again. I can't watch them. But isn't Alfred so funny when he plays them? He screams like a girl!"

Lovino let Feliciano ramble on for the world to hear. He was just waiting for the inevitable buzz in his pocket. Half of him was dreading it; Antonio probably didn't want to talk to him. The other half of him thought the best of Antonio, and reminded him of the promise to always be there for him, no matter what. It was time to see if Antonio could live up to that promise.

* * *

Not normally one for anger, Antonio was generally the very picture of serenity. But everyone has their out of character moments. This was one of those moments. His fury was almost a palpable entity. He could see it when he looked in the mirror. His reflection was not somebody he knew. Green eyes were narrowed in rage. The easy smile that played on his lips most of the time was gone, replaced with a lip curling sneer.

Although smashing his fist into the reflected stranger's face was a very tempting option, he didn't feel like pulling shards of glass from his knuckles. Instead, he stalked into the kitchen-sitting room combo and threw himself onto the couch.

He turned the TV on, and when he discovered there was nothing on to watch but shitty reality programmes – what did he expect at near midnight - he nearly hurled the remote right at the screen in his annoyance. A hand grabbed his wrist before he got the chance, and Antonio turned to unleash his temper on Gilbert.

"What do you think you're doing, turning up at my flat in the middle of the night?" he hissed.

"I'm stopping you from breaking your house, dummkopf. And for your information, I've been here for the past three hours. Your big elephant feet woke me up!" To prove his point, Gilbert gave a great yawn and stretched lazily.

"I wasn't going to throw it," Antonio snapped. "And for _your_ information, I know what you're really here for. I tell you and Francis the same thing every year; I don't need a babysitter." He yanked his hand from Gilbert's grip, glaring at the German – or possibly Prussian – as he helped himself to what was in the fridge and made a sandwich.

"I'm not a babysitter," Gilbert replied. At least, that's what Antonio thought he was trying to say – there was the problem of Gilbert's mouth being stuffed full of bread. "Think of me as an intrusive friend," he suggested when his mouth was finally empty.

"I do, which is why I'd like to you to leave," Antonio retorted.

Gilbert tossed back his head, filling the apartment with the sound of his barking laughter. "Man, who ran over your puppy? I'm not leaving. In fact, I'll be here for the next week! Aren't you thrilled? Maybe my awesomeness will rub off on you." The albino demonstrated his lack of understanding of the phrase 'personal space' and tousled Antonio's hair roughly. The key word here being _roughly_. He managed to get most of his crumbs over the couch in the process.

Antonio pushed him away and grumbled to himself. "So, what's got your underwear in a twist?" Gilbert asked him. Joking aside, this was not the Antonio he was used to seeing. This was the Antonio that emerged once a year, around the start of November, and he tended to suffer from random mood swings. You were never to take Antonio's harsh words seriously when he was in this state. You laugh at them and move on. That was what Gilbert and Francis had both learnt. "Besides from the obvious."

"Tonight was a disaster…" Antonio sighed. "I mean, the start was great. But halfway through the tour, the Vargas brothers completely freaked out when some kid in a mask jumped out at the group."

"That's not very scary," Gilbert frowned.

"He was waving a knife in their faces."

"Still not seeing it."

"You don't understand. I want to tell you, but I can't."

"Ah." Gilbert nodded, being tactful for once in his life. "This is about the Lovino kid, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Antonio replied glumly. "I wasn't watching him. I couldn't see he was in pain. I was with Feli, and I forgot all about him until someone said something… And then we had an argument. He thinks that I don't care about him, and that I like his brother more than him! Gil, I feel like I've failed at my job."

"So you're angry at yourself?" Gilbert asked for clarification. He scoffed when Antonio answered in the affirmative. "You are even more stupid than I am awesome. Look, stop blaming yourself for every blade of grass you step on. It's happened now and you can't do anything to change that."

"I was supposed to look after him! I promised him I'd be there, but I failed him!"

Gilbert grabbed his friend, who was probably more tired than angry by now, and looked at him fiercely. "Then be there for him _next_ time. Just stop comparing him to Marcos, because it'll only end in tears if you do."

"I don't…" Antonio began, but he realised that Gilbert was right, in a small way. He _did_ compare Lovino to Marcos on some levels. But there were other levels he could not compare the two on: namely, his feelings for Lovino. What he felt for the boy was nothing like his feelings for lost brother. He didn't think it was wrong, but it couldn't develop into anything more. That was the one mantra he had to repeat in his head over and over to stop himself from doing something stupid.

He had almost lost it when he saw Lovi dressed up as a turtle. It was the most adorable thing Antonio had ever seen, and the way Lovino's cheeks glowed under the flashing lights when Antonio was looking down at him gave him reason to hope that the Italian returned his feelings in some small way.

Hope was such a dangerous thing.

"Whatever you say, bro," Gilbert drawled, getting up from the sofa. "I'm off to bed."

"I only have one bed," Antonio pointed out.

"You're bunking with the awesome me tonight," Gilbert replied with a lecherous smile he probably learnt from Francis. "I'll show you a good time!"

Antonio uttered strained chuckle at the sheer ridiculousness of the suggestion. "I'll join you in a while. Buenas noches." Gilbert winked flirtatiously and shut the door behind him.

The first two weeks of November always reminded Antonio of the Just After of his brother's death. That in itself was obvious, but he would find himself feeling as though he were back there all over again. It was not a feeling he enjoyed. The anger, the pain, the guilt, the hopelessness… At least Gilbert and Francis were there for him in the Just After and would always be there for him.

Lovino had called himself pathetic earlier, but Antonio knew that Lovino wasn't the pathetic one. He knew that he was the pathetic one. He was so pathetic, he clung to the last chance of redemption he had. He was so selfish, he hadn't thought of Lovino's feelings at all in the beginning. He had sworn to help Lovino, but he had only wanted to help himself. But now that he was thinking about how Lovino had entrusted him with his delicate self – because Lovino was indubitably fragile, even though he put up a tough front – he was starting to see how lucky he was.

He should probably let go of the feeling he held for the boy, and make it easier for the both of them. But he was still too selfish to do that.

* * *

Antonio was doing the laundry when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from a strange number. He expected it to be Francis, on another new phone. That was Francis' way of avoiding one night stands. But it wasn't Francis.

It was Lovino.

"Mierda!" Antonio exclaimed. He had completely forgotten that he had asked for Lovino's number. However, he remembered his intentions. He saved the number and replied:

'**To: Lovi**

**¡****Hola Lovi! Are you free later?**

**01/11/2012 12.08 PM'**

'**From: Lovi**

**I said Lovino, not Lovi! Why do you want to know?**

**01/11/2012 12.11 PM'**

Antonio was glad to see Lovino was back in form. It was as if the fight had been forgotten. He had sent Gil out grocery shopping, since he had pretty much eaten everything in the fridge. If he left now he could escape the albino's watchful eye. If he left later, he'd be subjected to an onslaught of unending questions. But it didn't matter if Lovino wasn't free right now; he would wait. He could sit through Gilbert's annoying inquiries for him.

'**To: Lovi**

**Can you meet me at Bella's Coffee House today? Please?**

**01/11/2012 12.14 PM'**

Bella's Coffee House was by far Antonio's favourite café out of all the many cafés in town. Even though he wasn't the biggest fan of coffee itself, it was one of the only places that sold churros, and Antonio _loved_ churros. He wanted to share his favourite place with Lovino.

'**From: Lovi**

**Fine, I'll meet you there around three.**

**01/11/2012 12.15 PM'**

Success! He could hardly believe his luck. He felt like leaping up onto the table top and bursting into song, as though he were living in a musical. Oh, if life were like a Disney movie. He resisted the urge to include a copious amount of smiley faces on the end of his reply, playing it cool. He was the adult, after all.

He wanted to show Lovino he did care. He wanted to show him that even though he liked Feliciano, he was special to him. He also wanted to know what happened on that night, but it was not a priority. Yes, he had read the file, but he wanted to hear things from Lovino's point of view. Who knew if Lovino would be willing to share the details? He wasn't so sure now. At the very least, there were the churros to look forward to.

* * *

Awkwardness. Silence. Anger. They were all viable reactions to Lovino's accidental text. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been Antonio asking him out. Wait, Antonio _wasn't_ asking him out! Was he? What was this and what did it mean?

'_A meeting between friends?'_ he thought tentatively. Because they _were_ friends, Antonio and him. Kind of. The argument didn't seem to have changed anything; Antonio was as enthusiastic over the phone as he was in real life.

Besides Feliciano, Antonio was the only other person Lovino had allowed himself to open up to. That was what friends were supposed to do; tell each other all the secrets they held dear until there was no more lies between them.

Or maybe that was girls.

_Or lovers_, crooned the voice.

"Non sono la sua amante," Lovino said crossly, staring at the game going on before him.

"What was that?" Arthur asked offhandedly. He was more interested in watching Alfred than the game itself, which was Mario Kart. Alfred as least had _some_ shame and had decided that his friends didn't really need to see him puddle of tears today.

Lovino hadn't realised he had spoken aloud. "Nothing," he lied. "Just something about Ludwig's terrible driving skills. It's not important."

"I see. Are you feeling better today?" After Antonio had carried Lovino from the library (bridal style) with Ludwig following, carrying Feliciano (sack-over-the-shoulder style, since he kept struggling), Alfred and Kiku had been the only ones to see them. It wasn't that he didn't trust their reports, not at all. He would just feel a lot better hearing it from Lovino's own mouth. The Italian may have been a grumpy sod at times, but he liked the boy. Feli was a few cards short of a deck, but he couldn't help but like the cheerful chap.

"Much better. I just needed a good night's sleep."

"I'm relieved to hear that. You had us all very worried, you know. I don't mean to pry, but…?" Lovino was as comfortable with talking about himself as Arthur was. He wasn't surprised when his request to know the reason for the brothers' reactions was refused. "I thought as much."

The clock was much more interesting to Lovino at that moment than any form of conversation. A certain date – _meeting_, not date, was weighing heavily on his mind, and he had decided he was allowed to look forward to it. It was just an innocent meeting over a cup of coffee, a simple discussion about some things that shouldn't have been said, a well due apology from him.

"You seem very distracted." Shit, he forgot Arthur had always been very astute in his observations. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I could say the same for you," Lovino quipped. "You've been staring a hole in the back of Alfred's head ever since I got here!"

The tips of Arthur's ears went very red. "I-I have not!" he spluttered. "I'm watching the game!" But that was not a valid excuse, as Ludwig and Alfred were no longer playing. Ludwig was with Feli and Alfred was sipping at a can of soda over by the window, nowhere near the TV.

Lovino scoffed. "We all know you like Alfred," he said quietly, so said American wouldn't hear them talking. "Except for Alfred, obviously. I bet that that idiota has troubling reading a book, never mind another person."

"He's not _that_ bad," Arthur tried. Yet, as they looked over at him, Alfred was trying to squirt soda from his nose. "You're hardly one to talk," the Brit huffed, annoyed that the very one he had been endeavouring to defend had contradicted him so. "You like that Spanish bloke, don't you?"

"Feli beat you to it," Lovino replied, trying to keep his voice level. God, was it that obvious? "He asked me about it last night. Anyway, it's not like it could ever lead to anything." Accepting that had been harder than accepting the crush in the first place, but there was nothing to be done about it. It would kind of suck if Antonio ended up in jail.

"I wouldn't be so sure!" Arthur said smugly. "I have a knack for these things." Lovino laughed at his friend's very generous self-assessment. Because his own love issues were going _so_ well! "Shut up; I'm trying to help you here. If you could bring me a strand of his hair, I could perform some kind of-"

"No way in fuck," Lovino interrupted. There would be no freaky magic shit. And even if he did consider it, it wasn't like Lovino could get his hands on a strand of Antonio's hair. Last time he checked, it wasn't really socially acceptable to yank a handful of hair from a person's head. It certainly wouldn't help things between them.

"I was just trying to help." Arthur shook his head sadly – it was Lovino's loss - and ignored the biting remarks regarding how Arthur was the one who needed help getting his own love life under control.

After seven consecutive defeats on Mario Kart, Lovino threw the remote to Kiku and picked his coat up off the sofa. It wasn't even two yet, but he felt like he was lost in limbo here. He needed to get home and do something other than play videogames to distract himself. He said his goodbyes and ignored Feliciano's inquiries (he didn't need to ask; he probably knew what was going on).

He looked up at the cloudy sky and wondered if it would snow soon. It wasn't cold enough today, though the chill was certainly sinking its teeth into the exposed skin of Lovino's face. The trees had discarded nearly all their leaves, turning the pavement from a monochrome grey to a carpet of browns and golds that crunched as he walked along.

It was coming up to two o'clock when he finally arrived home, leaving him with just over an hour to prepare himself and get there.

He really wished he had more time to pick out an outfit for himself.

* * *

**I thought long and hard about tagging the not-date on the end of this. At first, I was like 'yeah, sure, just do it'. Then I started writing it and it is **_**long**_**. Not everyone likes really long chapters, so after sleeping on it, I decided to leave you in the lurch. You'll just have to wait a little longer to find out what was in that mysterious file. Don't hate me! D:**

**Did you all have a nice weekend? I had a rather fantastic weekend. I went down to Dublin yesterday (Saturday) with my friend and her mum. We went shopping, and I bought some lovely things. I'm particularly pleased with my new owl hat. Thank you, Primark! Then I went to see Lady Gaga. No big deal.**

**Oh God. Guys. **_**Guys**_**. It was so freakin' amazing. I can't even asdfghjkl *mind blown* If you ever get the chance to go see Lady Gaga, bloody **_**go**_**. You will not regret it.**

**Anyway, back to the daily grind. It's a bit of an anti-climax. Never mind! Have a very pleasant week, and thank you for all your reviews and alerts! Do you think we could possibly make it to 100 reviews with this chapter? :D**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Hetalia doesn't belong to me.**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen- Questions Answered**

Bella's Coffee House was the same as always when Antonio sat down in his favourite spot. The wall along the back was a bright lime. After one wall, someone had obviously decided not to bother themselves with any of the other walls, because the rest were just plain rusty brown bricks. Antonio smiled fondly.

The smell of coffee and freshly baked goods hung in the air, making his stomach rumble. The conversations of other people were a dull buzz. Some sat by themselves with a frothy mug of coffee in one hand and a laptop in front of them. Writers, he guessed. Couples were sitting near the back, where the booths were more private.

Light poured in from the expansive windows that stretched almost from floor to ceiling, touching every surface. There were no dark, dingy corners. Bella's Coffee House was always a happy place, and it probably always would be. That was why he loved it.

It was also where Antonio had taken his first date. Though at the time it hadn't been such a nice place, it had been completely whipped into shape.

Was it repetitive to take a second date here? No, he was getting ahead off himself. This couldn't be a date. A talk, that was all this was. He just wanted to share this fantastic place with Lovino.

On that note, the door opened and Lovino walked in. He shuddered as an icy gust swept in after him, but it was warm in here. He breathed a sigh of relief; it felt as though there were icicles hanging from his nose (not an attractive image), his fingers were positively numb and he wouldn't be surprised if his breath was forming those misty clouds in his very lungs. Rubbing some life back into his fingers, he looked around for Antonio.

"Lovi~! I saved us some seats~!" Lovino just shook his head at Antonio's very loud method of drawing his attention. The dazzling grin was back on his face and it made a world of difference to the Antonio he had seen the night before. He was like a beacon of light. A swell of happiness surged through Lovino; he had been right to think the best of Antonio.

"Hello," he said as he sat down. It seemed like a good place to start. What came next? Lines like 'I'm so glad to see you', 'thanks for not hating me', 'I'm sorry for what I said', 'not to surprise you, but I could maybepossiblydefinitely be slowlystupidlyquickly be falling in love with you' were dragged from somewhere in the back of his head.

Silence was probably his best option.

Thankfully, Antonio was a great conversationalist. "Lovi, do you like churros? The churros here are as good as the ones you would find in Spain! I've already ordered some for us, but do you want anything else? I was going to order a cappuccino for myself anyway."

"I'll take an Americano," Lovino said. A steaming mug of coffee would be a godsend right now. Although it was warm inside, he was still too cold to take his thick coat off. "I've never had churros before, no. Actually… I don't ever know what they are."

Shocked and appalled. It was a funny thing to see the instant transgression in Antonio's face, despite the fact Lovino now felt as though he had spoken blasphemy. "They are the best thing you can ever put in your mouth!" Antonio, in his passion, had forgotten to use his inside voice. Old people looked at him disapprovingly and a group of teenage girls stared at him in awe. Realising the implications of his words, Antonio face-palmed.

Lovino couldn't help but laugh at the man sitting in front of him. It was a short, soft sound, but it was a laugh nonetheless and for reasons he couldn't comprehend (or dare to hope about), Antonio was now staring at him with a very happy look on his face. "You should laugh more often," he smiled.

"I hate my laugh," Lovino said, embarrassed.

"It's like music!" Antonio insisted. "Ah, well… Not like music, but it's a very nice sound. I'd listen to it over and over again! Wait, I didn't mean to sound so cliché! Maybe we should start this all over again…"

Lovino didn't care that Antonio's words sounded like bad pickup lines from one of those cheesy rom-coms he loved to hate. "It doesn't matter. I'm having a good time."

"Then, this is fun?" Why did he feel like scratching Antonio behind the ear and giving him a treat?

"I-I mean, it's not like I'm bored… Not that this isn't fun! Er… Yeah. I guess." _Congratulations, Lovino; that made absolutely no sense whatsoever._

Antonio seemed to get the message. Or maybe this was one of those situations where you would just nod your head and smile, hoping that was an appropriate response. Lovino would pull that one on Feli occasionally. "I'll go order the coffees, okay?"

There should be a ban on tight trousers. More specifically, there should be a ban on sexy Spaniards wearing trousers that hugged their long legs (and perky behind) just right. Fuck it; Antonio could be wearing a sack, and Lovino would probably still find him positively alluring.

Antonio returned bearing gifts of coffee and what he could only assume were churros. He took the coffee that Antonio offered him gratefully, and sighed blissfully as his fingers wrapped around the warm mug. "You're freezing!" Antonio exclaimed as their hands brushed innocently in the passing of the mug.

"I'm okay now," Lovino assured him as the plate of churros was pushed towards him. On sight, he wasn't unbelievably impressed. They looked like star-shaped breadsticks sprinkled with sugar, nothing too extraordinary. There was a little cup of hot chocolate on the side, but it was thicker than normal hot chocolate.

On taste, Lovino found himself leaning towards Antonio's previous bold announcement. The cinnamon sugar had the perfect kick, beautifully accompanied by the silky smooth chocolate. The pastry was crispy on the outside, but warm and doughy on the inside. He had missed out on sixteen years' worth of this amazing snack. _So much wasted opportunity_, he thought wistfully. Even after years of eating churros, their magic was apparently not lost on Antonio. He wore a look of sheer enlightenment on his face.

"These are really good," Lovino admitted.

"Better than Italian food?" Antonio asked eagerly.

Lovino smirked. "Don't push it." Antonio shook his head in an 'I tried' way and they carried on eating. Lovino decided he was definitely coming back to this place. Excellent coffee, snacks fit for the gods, what more could you want?

What Lovino hated the most about good things was that there was always the overhanging shadow of the inevitable end. And thus, the churros were eaten and Lovino suddenly remembered that Antonio did not invite him here just for the food. "Can we talk?"

He didn't give Antonio a chance to say anything more. "I'm sorry!" he blurted out. Apologising _really _wasn't his style. He was pretty sure he would screw the apology up in some grandiose way. "What I said was wrong. I should learn to keep my thoughts to myself. But it's not that I think bad things about you all the time! N-no, I mean- Shit, I'm just sorry!"

"Lovi, it's fine." Antonio enjoyed watching Lovino trip over his rushed apology. A delicious red was creeping across his oh-so-squeezable cheeks. "But you know I don't like Feli better than you."

"Whatever you say," Lovino mumbled, sounding like a jealous child.

"Lovino, I do think Feli is cute; I'm not denying it! But you are much more special to me. I like Feli, but I like you so much more… And I care for you so much, it hurts to think that I failed you."

Whoever invented awkward silences, Lovino hoped they died a painful death.

"Do you understand me?" Antonio prompted the silent Italian for a response.

"Hnn."

"I mean it. I would buy all the churros in the world if it would make you believe me!"

It was funny how Antonio's outlandish promises always made things better. They were always so easy to believe too. Something in his lilting voice was so sincere; Lovino couldn't have called it a lie if he had tried with all his being.

"I _do_ believe you," he sighed. "It's just hard. I can count the people that care about me on just two hands."

"Not anymore," Antonio smiled warmly. "I care enough for one hundred people! How many hands is that?"

Oh God, Lovino wanted so badly to reach across the table and kiss him there and then. He wanted to hear his beautiful words, wanted his magical promises, wanted to kiss him again as every last one came true. When had he fallen like this? This was hook, line and sinker. "Too many hands to count," he chuckled softly. Laughter, twice in the space of an hour. He was on a roll today.

Clearly satisfied with his proven point, Antonio sat back in the chair and drained the last of his coffee. "Hey, Lovi. Can I ask you to do something for me?"

"It depends." It was a vague answer, but Lovino would really struggle to deny Antonio anything.

"Ah, sí…" Antonio paused, as though searching for the right words. Lovino wasn't sure if he was going to like what he was about to hear. He watched over his nearly-empty mug as the man floundered. In the time it took Antonio to decide what to say, he could probably have gone up and ordered another mug. "You see, I know what happened when you were younger. But I was wondering… I would _really_ like to hear it from you. It's one thing to read it, but I think it'd be better if you told me in your own words. Don't feel like you have to, I would just like to know."

It was only a matter of time before _that_ was brought up. At least Antonio was tactful about it. Treating Lovino to good food was one way of getting his favour. Lovino wanted to tell him, he really did. Keeping secrets to oneself had its repercussions, as shown by Lovino and Roma's strained relationship.

But he had never talked about it with anyone before. Not his grandfather, not his brother, not his friends, and most certainly not any of his counsellors. Not properly anyway. Was it really so easy to open up like that? The fear of being hated, excluded, disowned by his family had always held him back, and was the main culprit in the failing of his and Roma's relationship.

All he had to do was start at the beginning. Just open his mouth and spit out some sentences. Antonio had accepted him so far; he wouldn't turn his back on him now. Would he?

He wouldn't.

He might.

"How about this? I'll tell you about me, and then if you want, you can tell me about what happened. ¿Eso es bueno?" Antonio wiggled his eyebrows, trying to tempt him. "If you have somewhere to be, I totally understand. This might take a while, just so you know~!"

It couldn't do any harm to hear Antonio out. Besides, he didn't have any plans for the rest of the day. "Okay," he agreed.

Needing no further invitation, Antonio launched into his story. "I moved here with my family when I was ten. Wait, did I tell you that before? Sorry~" He laughed, a little more nervous than his usual chuckle. "My father got a new job. I didn't speak much English and it took a while for me to settle in, but I made friends with Gilbert and Francis as soon as I started school. True, I missed Spain, but I was happy here too. It didn't matter that papá's new job kept him busy or that mi madre spent most of her time with her new friends. Marcos and I were home alone a lot, but we kept each other company.

"When my father's pay suddenly increased, my mother decided the money shouldn't just sit around. She began to spend more time away from the house, maybe even more time than she spent money. Dad wasn't around to notice and Marcos and I didn't know any better. She had always been like that, although she did have her loving moments. The only reason she married my father was she got pregnant with me after a one night stand, and her family made her."

How awful it must be to grow up knowing that. Antonio was not a baby made with love; he was just an unfortunate side effect of one reckless mistake. Maybe Marcos had been the same, or perhaps he was loved. Maybe Antonio felt inferior to his brother sometimes, in the same way that Lovino sometimes felt.

"I didn't really mind. You don't think about that kind of thing when you're a child. But after a year, my father lost his job. He tried his best to find a new one, but there was nothing. Meanwhile, the money was slowly disappearing, thanks to my mother. When it was all gone, she earned money in new ways. Dad started drinking. We found out about mamá's job. Dad didn't stop drinking after that. Life went on as normal. I was used to looking after me and Marcos by then.

"Sometimes, dad would beat us. Only when he was really, _really_ drunk. He spent most of his days in front of the television. That is, until we had to sell it. We had to sell a lot of things before we persuaded our mother to go to the welfare office. Then we had just enough to keep our bellies full and dad almost constantly drunk. Teachers began to notice that our clothes were never clean, that we never had lunch, that we would sometimes turn up with a black eye. They asked questions, but we never said anything."

"How could you let your parents get away with that?" Lovino couldn't hold back his interruption. "You should have said something! The way they were treating you, it was so wrong!"

Antonio frowned. "A kid can never hate their parents. I didn't hold any resentment for them. Whether I _loved_ them, I'm not so sure. But you must understand. It doesn't matter how downright shit they were; they were the only parents we had. It's hard to lose something like that."

But he couldn't understand. They weren't parents at all. They were mere presences, and by the sound of it, Antonio's mother was barely even that.

"I never said a word to Gil or Francis, but I think they knew. They never asked about it, but they would pack bigger lunches on purpose, just so they could share with us. Marcos and I spent a night or two at their houses sometimes if our mother was home. Her being in the house usually led to fighting, and sometimes… Well, it wasn't right for Marcos to listen to that. He was too young. Then I moved up to secondary school, and I couldn't look after him anymore. I knew he was bullied. I didn't think it was too bad at first. But he arrived home one day with his jumper torn, his books all muddy and the bastards even took his shoes. Fixing all that used up nearly all of our money. He would never cry or complain. He kept his smile, though how, I don't know."

Antonio was interrupted by a waitress, asking if they would like more coffee. The offer was accepted. It didn't look like they were leaving any time soon.

"Eventually, he moved up to secondary school too, although not the same one as me. He failed the entrance exam so he ended up going to a state school, whereas I was in a grammar school. I still couldn't keep an eye on him. There was never any evidence of his been bullied further, but I guess the kids had moved past the stage of physical abuse to emotional. When it all got too much, he decided to end it. I was in a bad place for a while; I would drink sometimes, smoke maybe, and steal from shops. I never cut myself. Too scared."

The coffee arrived. They thanked the waitress and waited for her to leave. "Antonio, you can stop now," Lovino said. "There's no need to tell me anything else."

"No," he insisted. "I've started so I'll finish. Ay, it's like someone has opened the floodgates. I'm near the end, if you don't mind listening to me some more."

He would have to be some kind of selfish asshole if he denied Antonio that one request.

"A year after that, I held my mother and watched as she died." There was a bolt from the blue if Lovino had ever seen one. "It happened one night when dad was particularly drunk. They were fighting about something stupid. He was calling her names, and she was throwing them back. I had a headache. When I tried to make them stop, dad grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it over my head. For the first time in ages, my mother remembered that I was her son, and she pushed him. He swung the bottle at her head. She moved to try and dodge it, but it sliced into her neck. Probably cut right through the jugular. The ambulance was too late. They arrived with the police and left with my dad and the body. I moved in with Francis. It wasn't like my brother's death. It feels so _wrong_ to say it, but I think my mother's death set me straight."

Lovino wanted so badly to hold his hand, to hug him, just do _something_ to comfort Antonio. "I'm sorry." That was the best he could do.

"Don't be. You're not the one who has to live with the fact that they've never felt any regret about their own mother's death. I haven't spoken to my father since then. I can only assume he's still living. He's doing life for murder, and also assault. I've never received a call about his passing. Anyway, I pulled my marks back up in school, went to university, worked my ass off for my Master's degree, and now I'm here."

When he first met Antonio, Lovino remembered accusing him of not having a clue. Said he had his head in the clouds, called him an idiotic bastard to his face, something along those lines. Antonio had been proving him wrong ever since the second Lovino decided to let him help. _Decided_. Was it even a decision? He couldn't help but open up to Antonio. It was never a decision. It was just a simple inevitability.

He could do it. He could tell Antonio everything. Antonio was so strong; it was time he learnt from his example.

"I'll tell you."

* * *

Saturdays were the best days of all. Mamma never had work on Saturdays, and she would always spend every waking minute with Lovino and his noisy little brother. The kids from school would accuse him of being a mummy's boy sometimes; he didn't care. In days past, maybe he would have fought them over that. But he had promised his mamma he would not fight any more, and he was very proud to say he hadn't broken it yet.

The promise had been made a week beforehand, but screw the technicalities.

"I'm finished practising!" he announced, walking into the kitchen to be greeted by the sight of his mother in a sagging mushroom hat, flour plastered all over her face and clothes, watching a giggling Feli lift the pasta dough from the fridge.

"You're getting very good, my bambino." Camilla Vargas smiled so often that she was starting to get permanent laughter lines. Lovino thought that made her even more beautiful.

His father was long gone – dead, he gathered. Camilla didn't keep many photos of him. She said that she didn't need to, since Feli was almost a carbon copy of his father. Lovino didn't remember much about his father, but in all his recollections, his father wore a broad grin, sang in a wonderful tenor voice and satisfied the criteria of a good father in all ways.

Feli did look almost exactly like him, but the trademark curl came from the Vargas side of the family. Lovino was told that he had his father's smile (when it showed itself), but in all other ways, he looked like a grumpy, less life-weary, male version of his mother.

There was a photo of their Once Upon a Time Family on the mantelpiece above the cooker. Lovino was clinging to his laughing mother, a small smile on his face – there had been a bribe involving candy. Baby Feli was bouncing on his father's knee, gurgling happily, even at a few months old. Camilla loved that picture. She said it captured them perfectly. It was the only photo she needed.

"I'm not as good as you," he sighed, switching on the TV that sat in the kitchen corner. Sylvester the cat swiped at Tweety Pie, who managed to escape in the nick of time.

"You are only ten!" Camilla laughed at her oldest son. She accepted the dough from Feli, laying it out on a sheet of cling film, then attacked his chubby face with a flannel, not caring that she also had flour all over her own face. "If you put the effort in-"

"I'll get the reward out of it. I know, mamma!" He stood on his tiptoes to reach the back ring of the hob and stirred the tomato sauce. Just to make sure everything was in order, he decided to taste it as well. Camilla rapped his knuckles and fixed him with a firm look. "Delizioso," he said cheekily.

"Nonno gave me a new recipe this week." Lovino grabbed a bunch of basil from the table and threw it into the pan. He had been helping his mother in the kitchen for long enough that he could name most herbs and tell you what dishes they tasted best with. It was a pretty good achievement, for a ten year old. "Ah~ It does smell good, doesn't it? I think this could be the best pasta we've cooked in a while!"

Feli inhaled noisily (it helped him smell better) and licked his lips in agreement. "Ve~ I made the dough!" he chirped happily, wanting his contribution to be recognised.

"You did, clever boy!" Camilla praised him, searching through the drawer for the rolling pin – it was the one utensil that always seemed to be missing when she needed it. There was a knock at the door. "Lovino, answer that, please. Bring them on through; it's probably just someone from work." She had been expecting her boss to call round at some point during the week. She just _had_ to choose to arrive when she was emptying all the cupboards. All for one damn disappearing rolling pin.

Someone from work. Ugh. Lovino didn't like his mamma's co-workers at all. She was a secretary, and all the other women in the office were old, wrinkly and they were all rather fond of the same overpowering, _nauseating_ perfume. A visit from one of them meant dead-flower scented hugs, an endless supply of mint humbugs (okay, so maybe that part wasn't so bad) and the horror of seeing a stranger come close to tears as she warbled on about how big he and his brother had grown. For God's sake, he saw them all at least once a month! You can't grow _that_ tall in the space of three weeks.

When he answered the door, he found there was a giant on his doorstep. At least, he was a giant in Lovino's perspective. The Man was a stranger to him; he had never seen him before in his life. Even if he had, there was no way of recognising him. A white mask covered his eyes. Was he on his way to a party? Yet he wore no fancy clothes or ridiculous costume, just the mask. "I can't stand here all day, kid." His voice was low and gravelly. Lovino ran to the kitchen, feeling that his mother should be warned of the visitor. Something about him was terrifying.

Meanwhile, Camilla had found the rolling pin. She pushed her untidy hair into the hat and set to rolling out the dough. There was no time to leave everything to the side; the pasta needed to be rolled now, or the dough would dry out. Her boss would just have to deal with the fact that she was rather busy. "Veronica, I wasn't expecting you this evening!" she teased good-naturedly. "You've called just before dinner. This is an Italian house, you know. We _certainly_ won't have enough for you~!"

"Mamma, I don't know this man," Lovino whispered. The Man stood in the doorway. Lovino hoped he hadn't heard him. Mamma probably knew him, and he'd look foolish for worrying.

"Oh. You're not Veronica." Camilla smiled apologetically, offering a hand to The Man. He stared at the dough-covered hand. She withdrew it slowly. "I'm sorry; I don't believe I've ever met you."

"We've never met, but I know all about you, Camilla Vargas. And Lovino Vargas, and Feliciano Vargas. Ten and eight, right?"

The two boys looked up at the mention of their names. Camilla glared, while The Man smirked. "Who are you and what do you want," she snarled. It was not a question.

"I'm just a man trying to pay his debts," The Man replied casually. "I want you to listen to me very carefully and follow my exact instructions. And if you don't… Well, I really dislike harming kids. It would be such a shame if my finger were to slip…" He pulled back his jacket to reveal a gun, very snug in its holster. "No funny business. It's loaded." A black handle stuck out from under his belt. It looked very like the lethal kitchen knives Camilla kept locked away.

Lovino thought he could see something shiny poking out from under The Man's arm, but he wasn't sure what it was. Whatever it was, the sight of it made his mamma's face turn as white as chalk. She rushed over to Feli and him, watching the very much unwanted guest from the corner of her eye. "Come into the front room," she whispered, kneeling down to their level. "Don't say a word. Sit, and don't move a muscle. Do exactly as I say. And whatever you do, no matter what happens, _do not go near that man_."

"Ve~ Is he a friend?" Feli questioned innocently.

"Like hell he is," Lovino mumbled. He was not told off for his language.

Camilla held her head high as she led them into the front room, making sure to keep the boys in front of her. Lovino glanced back at The Man nervously. He was staring at his mamma in a way that made him want to punch the bastard into next week – if only he were ten years older. Feli sat almost on his brother's knee as mamma pointed at the couch wordlessly. "You and I will stand here," she said firmly. The Man humoured her and did as he was told.

"I've been told Dante had trouble paying back his debts too. Probably mostly due to the fact that he's dead, wouldn't you say?"

Dante. That was his father's name. Debt had never been brought up before. Lovino knew they didn't exactly live in the lap of luxury, neither here or in Italy, but they weren't hard done by. Money was a little tight sometimes, but it was never short. Everything they had ever needed had always been there; how could they run into debt?

"Dante's troubles died with him," Camilla answered levelly. "I am not responsible for something that happened years before I met him."

A gun. That was what Lovino had seen. The Man removed it from its holster and scratched his chin lazily with the end of the barrel. "That's funny, because that's not how the mafia see it, and they don't think you see it that way either. After all, you ran from Italy and you did a very good job of keeping under the radar. But you should have known they would find you eventually, stupid woman."

"My mamma is not stupid!" Lovino shouted angrily. Who did this stranger think he was? You don't just barge into someone's home, threaten them with a gun and insult them.

"Be quiet," Camilla snapped tensely. That shut him right up. His mamma never told him off unless he hurt his brother or used bad words.

"Listen to your ma, kid," The Man drawled, waving the gun in his general direction. A shadow of a threat. "Now, lady. I've been told to collect the money that's owed. You remember how much it was?"

She was trying to stay calm, Lovino could tell. But she was starting to shake very badly, and when she spoke, there was a hitch in her voice. "I don't have that kind of money. I will never have that kind of money."

The Man laughed dryly. "He said the same thing, Dante. If you want to get out of this alive, I suggest you find that money somewhere, lady. Because I'm not in a generous mood today, and even if I was, the next guy won't be."

"It's not my debt to pay!"

"My boss doesn't give a flying fuck who owes the money; all he cares is that he gets it. Cash in hand, nice and easy. You think I want to call him up and tell him that there's no money? It won't be my blood that's spilled for it."

Camilla sat down quickly before her knees gave out on her. "Please, I can't pay that! Your boss doesn't need the money, but my children do!"

He hated this. Lovino didn't understand what was happening. His father had dealings with the mafia? But they were bad people, and his father was not a bad person. Feli had been sniffling softly ever since the gun was brought out, and Lovino held him back as he struggled to run for his mamma. "Stay put," Lovino growled.

"Mamma is scared," Feli whimpered, but he did as he was told, like mamma had asked.

Lovino was scared too. Of course he was. He was only ten. The Man had turned up from nowhere with his gun, and started demanding phantom cash. Just _how_ much did he want? The simple mention of it had brought his mother near to tears. And what would happen if they couldn't pay it? He had heard stories about mafia killings. He didn't want to find out if they were as brutal and as bloody as people said they were.

But mamma was trying to be strong. He had to be strong too. After all, his mamma had often said he was the man of the house. He knew what his job was as the man of the house; he must look after his family. It all sounded so straight forward in his head, but when he stood up, The Man towered over him, even from the other side of the room.

A small hand clutched at the back of his jumper. "Where are you going?" Feli blustered.

"To help mamma. You stay here and don't move unless mamma tells you otherwise."

Walk. One foot in front of the other. One, two, one, two. That was it. "Leave my mamma alone." In his head, the words had been a mighty roar. Spoken aloud, they were trembling and mousy. They were laughed at. Lovino's sudden bravado withered and died. He wanted to crawl back to the sofa and hide until it was over.

"Lovino, get away!" Camilla cried, stricken. Yes, he should really go back. He should really do as instructed. He should really listen to his mamma.

But he was frozen where he stood.

"This is none of your business. Be a good brat and sit back down, before I make you."

"I'm the man of the house, and you listen to me." What made him say it, he wasn't sure. But now that his mouth had opened, it wouldn't stop moving. "You're upsetting my family. I don't know what this is about a debt, but if mamma says she won't pay it, then she won't pay it. So do us a favour, and _get the fuck out of my house_."

Suddenly, Lovino found there was a gun pointed at his head, right between the eyes. "You're cute," The Man smirked. "Little lion man, I could shoot you here and now, or you could back away. Your choice."

Moving with a speed Lovino didn't know she had, Camilla grabbed Lovino and shoved him away, standing in his place. He stumbled, but he did not fall. He was simply moved back a metre or so. The two adults seemed ten times bigger than him. Who was he kidding? This whole issue was ten times bigger than him. He was a fool to think he could ever help. He began to cry, just like the stupid little kid he was.

"If you even think about harming a single hair on my sons' heads, I swear, I will haunt you until your dying day. _I swear_." Odd, isn't it? A mother always finds a way, somehow, to protect her children. Lovino despised it; he should have been the one doing the protecting. It should have been him standing there, facing off with The Man. It should have been him giving the orders. But it was not him. It was his mamma and it was The Man.

"I'm getting really tired of this shit. Just give me the money, and I'll leave. It can be that easy. So let's not make it difficult, huh?"

Camilla held her ground with a shivering form. Lovino could not tell if it was the fear or the anger that made her shake. "I've already told you; I don't have your damn money! Just leave us, I beg you!"

The Man pulled out a knife – where did that come from? – and cleaned the barrel of the gun with it. "There are other ways to pay than with money, you know."

Other ways? What was he talking about? Could Lovino do anything to help?

There was no hesitation in Camilla's voice. "I'll do it. But you have to promise to forget about the money, and leave and never come back. And I mean _never_. Not in any of my ancestor's lifetimes. The mafia must never approach this family again. Promise it."

Wrongwrongwrong. Lovino wanted to scream as The Man sauntered over to his mamma, not putting down the gun or the knife, and held her by the waist. "Babe, I would promise you anything," he chuckled. Slimy. The Man was slimy, greasy, filthy. Yet his mother still let him lay his hands on her. Lovino had an inkling of what this _other way_ could be (the older kids at school weren't quiet with their conversations), but he didn't want to think about it.

"Lovino, Feliciano. Go finish cooking dinner. Leave the leftovers in the pan. Don't come in here for the rest of the evening, do you understand?"

Feliciano, though reluctant to leave his mother alone with the stranger, didn't need telling twice. His little feet pattered on the carpet as he ran out of the room, sparing one worried glance. He didn't have a clue what all this was, but it frightened him. He wanted to be far away. And so, he ran.

This didn't have to happen, surely. Lovino was still paralyzed where he stood. Not one muscle was able to move. Camilla's hateful glares were clashing with The Man's seedy looks. The silent battle raged before him. He was powerless to stop it.

"I told you to go to the kitchen, Lovino." That voice did not sound like his mamma's; it was empty, removed, distant. And though she stood over him, he could not remember ever seeing her so small. He had been told to follow his mother's orders, but this person did not seem at all like his mother.

Perhaps this was what frightened him most. It was not the gun, and it was not the knife. It wasn't The Man either. It was this woman who had broken with a slight touch. In all Lovino's years, he had believed his mamma was a strong woman, but here she was now: shaking, terrified, yielding, _weak_.

All for her children.

"I'm giving you ten seconds," The Man threatened him. The gun was back in its place, smack between his wide eyes. Lovino didn't for a second doubt that The Man wouldn't stop to think before he pulled the trigger. He wished life was like in the movies. If all this was fake, the hero would swoop in now to save them all. But heroes didn't exist in real life.

"_Don't you touch him!_" Camilla screamed, pushing the vile cretin away. The gun fell to the ground.

Lovino wasn't so sure of what happened next. The Man raised his fist to strike Camilla, taking a step forward. All Lovino could recognise was that the knife was still in his hand, and that knife was sharp. It couldn't be allowed near his mamma, could not be allowed to hurt her.

His trembling hands shot out and grabbed The Man's leg. Anything to stop him. He hadn't even realised he could finally move. But what use were such small hands, such weak hands?

Yet such small hands could do enough to trip a fully grown man.

He watched him fall. Camilla cried out in surprise. Or was it horror? Pain? All three, probably, but mostly pain. The knife broke the skin, sliced through the muscle and didn't stop until the blade could go no deeper. A clean cut. Lovino saw her clutch the hilt as she collapsed to the ground. Now he was the one standing over her, and she was so broken. He half expected her to shatter like glass as she slammed down.

He wished she would talk. He wished she would say something, _anything_, just to assure him that she was okay. What was that line from Monty Python? Just a flesh wound. But she could only make horrible, strangled gasps.

Red, red, everywhere was _red_. Her hands were stained with red and red spread across her stomach. Redredred.

He was frozen again. Why didn't the tears that were burning trails down his cheeks thaw him out? This pernicious paralysis should at least numb his feeling. But he swore he could feel her pain as he was forced to watch the look of sheer agony on her face as she pulled the dripping blade from her gut.

The Man crouched down and looked at her in the way a cruel scientist observes a vivisection. One would like to believe he cared, but the only thought displayed on his face was the interest in what would happen next. "Such a pretty thing. But you're no use to me now." He laughed as she swung the bloody knife at him. Her frail wrist was swatted away so easily. She did not try again.

"Mamma!" Lovino choked. Blank eyes slid over to him. Lips formed quiet words, but he could not catch them. If only he could move.

"I hope you know this is your fault." The Man sighed, disappointed with the loss of a new plaything. "Fuckin' brat. If you hadn't tripped me, this wouldn't have happened. You should have just left with your brother. This is what happens when little kids try to interfere in adult matters."

It _was_ his fault. He had deluded himself into believing that it was his job to protect, when all along, all he had to do was _obey_. What a failure he must be in his mother's eyes, what a pathetic child. If he was truly frozen, his hands should not have moved. And now that he tried again, he found he _could_ move after all.

His knees gave out on him, and he dragged his deplorable self to his mother's stilling body. "Mamma, mamma," he sobbed. He couldn't think of anything but her. Had he tried to say anything else, it would have just been a scream. Stomach churning violently, whatever he had eaten that day threatened to reappear.

"My beautiful boy," she rasped. "My precious Lovino. Il mio bambino."

What good were these sweet nothings? She should hate him; she should be spitting her own blood at him. He was the root of her suffering. _It was his fault, dammit_!

The gun was beside him. Just like his mamma had tried to defend herself with the knife, he grabbed it and aimed at The Man. He prayed he could work out how to use it before The Man snatched it away. He squeezed the trigger with all his might, but the bullet never left. It clicked uselessly. Lovino didn't even fight when The Man pried it from his fingers.

"You have to cock it like this," he oh-so-kindly explained, with a generous demonstration. The information seemed rather redundant now.

It seemed like such a task when The Man pointed the gun at his mother. His hand lifted so slowly. To Lovino, the gun seemed so heavy in his grip. Maybe the weight of human life was dragging his hand down. "You couldn't pay with cash or your body. There's only one way left to pay."

"Please," she breathed. "Just me. Not my boys. Not my boys, please, spare them."

"You have more than enough blood."

The shot cracked like an almighty thunder. The bullet left a hole in her head. The Man's aim was true; blood trickled down her nose in a perfect line. She breathed her last and left the world with a small sigh.

Silence. Then he began to scream. The noise tore his throat, and it wasn't until now that he learnt how much air he could hold in his lungs. In his terror, his grief, he had lost all sense of articulation. His words were neither in English nor Italian, but a whole new language that people discovered only in their fear.

"Kid, you're screaming bloody murder." The Man laughed at him, relishing in Lovino's living nightmare. "You did this! You killed her, not me! I pulled the trigger, but you handed me the gun. This was as much your fault as it was mine."

And it was so true. It crippled him, it hurt so much, but the truth was never easy. His mother hadn't died protecting him; she had died because he was stupid enough to think he could help. His mistake had resulted in her casualty. It was her blood on his hands.

It crushed him. It forced his chest to tighten and winded him so he could not breathe, yet he could not stop every last molecule expelling from his lungs. He could still hear The Man's words echoing in his ears, even after he left; even as he awoke in hospital and screamed again for what had been lost.

"_You did this."_

* * *

**Oh lord, my feels D: Is it bad that I love writing all this angsty stuff? Taking pleasure in the misery of others is bad!**

**Sigh. I have been so busy these last few weeks, between schoolwork and personal stuff. I've hardly had time to stop and catch my breath. I am seriously regretting taking on geography… Why did I think that would be fun?! Should have done Spanish. Well, it's two years too late. I just have to make it until the end of June! Then I can drop all those crappy things like maths and geography and physics :D**

**Oh, one small thing. You guys see that number up at the top? Yeah?**

**PLEASE ACCEPT MY INTERNET HUG, EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU. There. Wasn't that nice? Hugging is such a satisfying thing. Seriously, thank you all so much. I can't believe I actually got over 100 reviews, especially with this being my first fan fiction ever. I was so happy, I taught myself the dance to 'Gangnam Style'. And I am an awful dancer who avoids dancing at all costs, so that means I was high on adrenaline or life or something.**

**To show my thanks, I'm gonna run a little competition. Whoever wins gets a one-shot dedicated to them. It can be any pairing you want, any genre – I'll even write for another fandom if you want, providing I've read/watched it! Alright, I'm not very good at these things, so I'll give you a few things to choose from. **

**1) Give me a totally awesome character song for any character of your choice.**

**2) Tell me a hilarious anecdote, because I can't think of any other Hetalia related questions.**

**3) What would you do if you were a millionaire? Personally, I would buy a penguin and a giant freezer for him to live in.**

**Er, yeah. I'm bad at this. You can do all of those, if you like. I'll pick the best answer sometime this week and send you a PM, so if it's you, please answer it! If I don't hear back from you, I'll choose someone else.**

**Have a wonderful week, my lovelies xx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia :P**

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**Chapter Fourteen- Can't**

The temperature in Antonio's car was absolutely Baltic. Since the heating didn't work, they were forced to endure the sub-zero climate. At least Antonio had the sense to keep blankets in the back of the car for the cold winter months, even if the Lion King blanket Lovino had wrapped around himself was a little embarrassing. Lovino hadn't protested very much about the childish blanket though – they had reached that point. They had probably passed it.

It had been extremely easy to tell Antonio everything. He didn't interrupt once; he just sat there quietly, listening with his full attention. Once Lovino had finished the first sentence, the rest came naturally. And although he had suffered for years, the memories he kept locked away torturing him, he was actually starting to think it had all been worth it. It had led him to Antonio, after all.

After he had finished his story, Antonio paid the bill and offered to take him home. Lovino, seeing that he had been treated, felt as though this was perhaps a little closer to a date than he had wanted to admit at first. Why break the trend? He willingly agreed to the proposition. Inside the car was no warmer than outside, but he would get home quicker this way. And he _did_ get to spend a little more time with Antonio.

"To think that a few weeks ago, it was like summertime," Antonio laughed.

Lovino smiled. "It's like the weather decided to bypass autumn and go straight to winter," he agreed. He drew the blanket a little tighter around himself and clutched his hands. When he breathed through his mouth, little white puffs formed before him. It reminded him of a game he used to play with Feli when they were younger.

"I'm glad it did. I like summer better than winter, but I don't like autumn very much. Summer is warm and sunny. Winter may be cold, but snow is beautiful. And there's Christmas too! But autumn is just cold, rainy and windy."

If Roma heard Antonio say that, he would probably smack him across the back of the head. "That's not true," Lovino said. "Sure, autumn is wet and it can be cold. But autumn is the most colourful season. See the trees over there? Look at all the different shades of orange and red there are. It's beautiful! And there's harvest time to look forward too. You should see my grandfather's nursery in autumn. Or even just our back garden. There are so many colours."

"When you put it that way, it's very hard to disagree," Antonio replied, admitting defeat. "Is autumn your favourite season, Lovi?"

"I think so."

"Spring is my favourite. There's so much life~ I think it's wonderful!" Spring certainly did suit Antonio. It held as much life as his stunning emerald eyes did and it was as refreshing as his wide grin.

Silly conversations that held no real meaning were the best. It was through the conversations that started out as meaningless that Lovino would find himself learning something about Antonio, even something as irrelevant as his preferred season. Lovino wanted to know all the little details that made Antonio who he was.

It seemed as though they had went from the coffee shop to his home in the blink of an eye. Lovino was reluctant to climb out of the car, but tried not to show it. "Thanks for today. It was… nice." He didn't really know what else to say.

"I'm really grateful that you told me all that, Lovi." A jolt went up Lovino's arm as Antonio patted it. "Seriously, I mean that."

"I know you do," Lovino blushed. He would be forgiven for prolonging the contact, surely.

"Do you think we could meet up this week?" Antonio queried, and Lovino couldn't help the grin that appeared on his face. He didn't give a damn that it made today seem even more like a date – there was no point in denying that he wanted that. "You see, it's Marcos' anniversary on Thursday. It's fine if you don't want to go; I guess it's a weird question."

"No, I want to go," he said before Antonio could take it back.

"Really? That's great! I'll text you all the details later! The cemetery isn't too far from here. Maybe we can go for a cup of coffee afterwards too." Antonio's smile was bright enough to guide a ship on a dark stormy night.

"I'll see you on Thursday then," Lovino replied happily. He left the car and ran out into the cold air, stopping at the front door to wave Antonio off. When Antonio beeped the horn, Feliciano peeked out the window and Lovino grimaced. Preparing himself for the assault course of questions, he stepped through the door. He slipped his shoes off and padded into the kitchen.

"What happened?!" Feliciano asked breathlessly. Racing down the stairs had obviously tired him out. Lovino enjoyed watching him dance around anxiously as he poured a glass of orange juice for himself, leaning casually against the worktop. "Tell me!" he begged.

"We had coffee."

"Coffee? He's playing it cool." Feliciano was apparently very informed on the subjects of blooming romance and dating. Lovino supposed his younger brother did have more experience than him. "What did you talk about?"

"Actually…" Lovino felt a little guilty that he had talked to Antonio before talking to Feliciano (it _had_ been six years), but he couldn't say he regretted it. "He told me about himself. I didn't expect any of it. Feli, he's had it _really_ bad. And then I told him about me."

"Ve~ Does that mean…?"

"Yeah. I told him about the night mamma died."

Rather than jealousy or 'you should have told me first', tears of happiness welled up in the corners of Feliciano's eyes. "That's so great! Lovi, I'm so happy for you!"

"You _are_?" Lovino asked, more than a little confused.

"Of course I am! You opened up to someone, finally! We should tell nonno. He'll be so happy, ve~ And, you know, you guys are closer now too. Right? That's just what you need. I can't wait for the day when you come home and tell me you're going out with him~ It might take nonno a while to come around, but I'm sure he'll be happy too! Antonio has been so good for you."

"Wait, I am not going out with Antonio!" Lovino blustered, blushing furiously. Right now didn't seem like the right time to tell Feliciano that he and Antonio actually were meeting up during the week – especially if he was trying to prove that they were, in fact, _not_ going out.

Feliciano simply waved it off. "You're not going out with Antonio _yet_," he corrected his brother.

"I'm not going out with him _ever_," Lovino said adamantly. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. He's a teacher, remember? Or a counsellor – same difference. I can't go out with him."

This was getting ridiculous. It seemed as though Feliciano was determined to counter his every argument. "Silly fratello~ It's love! Love will find a way."

"_We're not in love!"_ Lovino squawked loudly as Feliciano skipped out of the room.

Oh, they _so_ were.

* * *

"You've been out for a long time, and you look _very_ happy. Got something to share?" Gilbert was sprawled out across Antonio's sofa, very leisurely. He was quite a relaxed babysitter. Or roommate – whatever. He showed no signs of budging. Antonio wouldn't have been surprised to find out that he had spent most of the day there, but at least he had done the shopping and managed to not eat all the food again.

Lifting the Oreos from the cupboard, he pulled out a couple for himself and threw the rest of the packet to Gil. "I don't know what you're talking about~" he sang.

Gil's manners really did leave much to be desired. "Sure ya do. My awesomeness can tell you've been out on a date with someone!" In the space of ten seconds, he had scarfed down half a packet of biscuits. What Elizabeta saw in him, Antonio couldn't tell. Perhaps she had a really keen eye.

"How can you tell?" he asked, taking a seat in the corner armchair. It was hard to see the TV from his viewpoint, but Gil was watching some action movie that didn't really interest him anyway.

"I can smell the coffee from here. You always take your dates out for coffee."

"No I don't! Oh. Yes, I do. Am I that predictable?" Despite the fact he scored very highly on the hotness scale, Antonio hadn't been on many dates. For the past few years, he had used studying as his excuse. When he was younger, he wasn't really in the right headspace for dating. Coffee was easy. Coffee was casual. It made him look sophisticated, kind of. Excuse him for liking coffee!

"Nein, it's all good. Just means that I know exactly where you've been. Who's the lucky lady? Or guy."

"Er, well, it wasn't really a date. I don't think so anyway… But it was me and Lovino. We just talked about some stuff, no es gran cosa. Can you believe that he'd never tried churros before? I made sure to change that~"

"Antonio, dude." Gilbert fixed his stare onto his oblivious friend. "That was a date. You had _coffee_. You had a _wonderful_ heart to heart over a plate of churros. And you treated him, right? It was a date!"

Huh. It was starting to sound awfully like a date to him now. "I asked him to come visit Marcos' grave with me this week. Was that a bad thing to do?"

The albino frowned worriedly. "Not that I don't think you two would be great together – you're clearly smitten and Lovino doesn't seem like a bad kid, even if he was kind of a grumpy douchebag when I met him that one time. But that's the thing, Antonio. He's just a kid."

Gil was right, of course. The same doubts had been ringing in his own head. It wasn't something he could ignore. A six year age gap wasn't that bad, but Lovino was only sixteen. And Antonio was still trying to pay off student loans, not to mention the rent. He couldn't afford to lose his job. "It doesn't feel wrong," he mumbled thoughtfully.

"Mon ami, l'amour ne se trompe jamais!" Francis announced as he waltzed into the kitchen. "Unless you are in love with a family member. Even I have my limits. Don't laugh, Gil! I kissed Gabrielle once by complete accident. We were both _very_ drunk, and –"

"We really don't want to hear about how you made out with your cousin," Antonio teased him.

"There was no making out, it was just-"

"Incest! Incest! Unclean! Shameful!" Gilbert yelled at him, rolling off the sofa as Francis threw himself across the back of it in an attempt to catch him and force him to endure some horrible (and knowing Francis, probably sexual) torture. Antonio made himself a sandwich as he watched the two chasing each other around the kitchen. It made for very good entertainment, especially when Gilbert caught the blonde in a headlock and started shouting in a very bad French accent.

"Ohonhonhon, le croissant! L'escargots! Oh la la, my national symbol, she looks like a très big penis!"

"If your penis looks like the Eiffel Tower, then I am very worried for you," Francis said smoothly. "Maybe I could take a look?" He began to choke as Gilbert tightened his hold. Struggling was pointless. Gilbert promptly let go and sat on him.

"The only person who gets to look at my five metres of awesome is Liz!" he told the writhing Francis.

"I wouldn't look if you paid me," Francis spat. "Now get off me, you imbécile! It feels like there's an elephant sitting on top of me. And I am never the one doing the bottoming." At that, Gilbert sprang off him with a look of disgust on his face. Content to forget about the whole business, Francis composed himself and sat beside Antonio.

However, Gilbert wasn't quite as ready to let it go. It was in his nature to antagonise people, of course. "The awesome me doesn't bottom either! Those faced with my awesomeness can't help but submit…"

Antonio just relaxed and enjoyed the show, starring two members of the Bad Touch Trio at their very best. Ah, friendship.

* * *

On a cold and blustery Tuesday afternoon, Lovino's bed was a more welcoming option than traversing out into the chilling air. Kiku's house may have only been a fifteen minute walk, but that was fifteen minutes too long right now in Lovino's opinion. Unsurprisingly, Feli had a skip in his step (more like leap) and a song in his heart. The prospect of seeing his beloved Ludwig outweighed all the cons. "Smile, fratello~! Look, I brought… Let's see, Just Dance, Mario Galaxy… We didn't have much. But Kiku's collection fills a whole bookcase! This is going to be so much fun~!"

Lovino wasn't much of a gamer. He had been bribed into playing a game or two of Just Dance, and he admittedly did kick ass at Mario Kart – barring that last episode at Alfred's house. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy games. He just couldn't be bothered. "If you say so," he grumbled.

"Don't be like that, Lovi. You always get so competitive at these things. Remember that time you threw juice at Arthur to distract him because he was winning at tennis? He was so mad! But then he beat you at Guitar Hero and you were mad at him, then Alfred sat on him for some reason and he spent the rest of the evening huffing in the corner. That was fun too!"

Okay, so maybe Lovino was more than a little competitive. He got wrapped up in the heat of the moment, the juice was there and Arthur had been goading him. "That was years ago! I'm too old to be throwing juice now."

"We'll see! Hey, did you know Arthur likes Alfred?"

"Feli, _everyone_ knows Arthur likes Alfred, except for Alfred himself."

"We should help them out!" Helping, in Feliciano's dictionary, was a very ambiguous term. Lovino had fallen victim to his brother's 'help' more than once. Even though his most recent attempt at helping had resulted in him meeting up with Antonio, and he was grateful for that, nine times out of ten, 'helping' did not help at all. Lovino had nothing but sympathy for the unfortunate twosome as Feliciano planned their demise, completely unbeknownst to them.

* * *

Alfred and Arthur arrived together. They were a package deal. Arthur was laden down with what must have been a whole store of videogames, as well as his overnight bag, and Alfred could barely see past the various snacks that were piled sky-high in his arms. In true Alfred fashion, the American hadn't thought to bring anything other than food and games. And he had made Arthur carry the games. Really, who needs pyjamas and a toothbrush? Arthur was sure that Alfred had started eating on the way there. He didn't ask any questions, he just got on with his life.

"Alfred-san, Arthur-san." Kiku bowed respectively to his guests. There was no doubt that the boy's parents had bred him with proper manners. "Come on in."

When Arthur finally set the many bags down, he nearly burst into song. He could finally feel his fingers! Then the pain hit them, and he wasn't so grateful. "Next time," he told Alfred firmly, "you carry your own bloody games!"

"Artie, you're such a martyr," Alfred snickered, to which he received a grumbled reply that he strongly suspected contained some odd British swear words.

They slipped off their shoes and followed Kiku into the sitting room, where everything was set up for their gaming marathon. Ludwig was sitting under the kotatsu, peeling an orange. Arthur practically dived for the table, longing for the warmth. He felt like he had been hugged by a snowman.

"Man, I don't know why my mom refuses to buy one of these," Alfred complained through a mouthful of Doritos. "They're awesome!"

Just as Kiku was about to sit down, Feliciano burst into the room. A much calmer Lovino followed him, their cheeks apple red from the chilly air. "Ve~ Kiku, your house is so lovely and warm! Can I sit down too?" Asking was a bit pointless; he sat down anyway. Kiku took the overnight bags that Lovino was holding and Feliciano emptied a paper bag, so all the games were strewn across the table top.

Alfred wasted no time in adding his games to the pile. The eyes of the avid gamer twinkled excitedly behind his glasses as Arthur watched on in amusement. He didn't understand what the attraction to gaming was – he would much rather sit down with a good book. But when he watched Alfred playing, he had just as much fun as him. Even if he didn't have a set of controls in his hand. "Lego Batman!" he shouted triumphantly.

Ludwig, who had been silent all this time, spoke out. "I think we should play this," he said gruffly, holding up some war game. Halo, was it?

"That looks a little violent," Feli tried, not really wanting to shoot anyone. It didn't matter if it was just a game. He hated guns. "How about we play this?" He waved Kirby's Epic Yarn so everyone could see.

There seemed to be quite a dilemma; they couldn't agree what game to play. Ludwig stuck to his guns (literally), Alfred was absolutely certain that he wanted to play a Batman game and Kiku wanted Donkey Kong. Lovino didn't seem to care very much about what they played, but he pointed at a Sonic game and mumbled something about watching the show when he was younger. And so, it fell to Arthur to decide.

Needless to say, the Brit was rather conflicted. He couldn't give a rat's ass about what they played, but he was forced to choose between four desperate friends that sat before him. At the least, Lovino seemed to be out of the question. His phone went off and he was suddenly very focused on texting whoever it was. Arthur had never known him so eager or willing to participate in social interaction, and was honestly quite curious to know who had piqued his interest.

"Artie, come on!" Alfred whined.

Ah yes, the games. Feliciano was looking at him with a hopeful smile on his face. Most girls would probably die from the sheer _adorableness_ of it. The game he was holding didn't seem to be too bad. On the other hand, there was Ludwig, whom he was a little scared to refuse. But guns weren't his thing at all. Arthur had played Donkey Kong before and he had enjoyed it, so he thought it was most likely he would choose that game.

But Alfred. _Alfred_. Shit, he knew how to use those striking blue eyes to their best ability. With just one look at his best friend (crush) he felt as though if he said no, Alfred's heart would truly shatter into a thousand pieces, never to be whole again. It was not an easy ultimatum.

Then again, he wasn't too concerned about the problem. It was just a game, and they would be here all night anyway. "Batman," he sighed.

"I love you!" Alfred exclaimed, pulling a not-very-surprised-but-kind-of-embarrassed Arthur into a rib cracking hug.

His amazing skills of elocution came into play as he sputtered out a broken sentence made up from all the potential replies that his head suggested. "I-I don't-Batman is-Not that you-Fuck, Alfred, _I can't breathe_!"

_Oh yes, Arthur. That was very finely put indeed._

The other three didn't seem too put out that Arthur had chosen Alfred over them (actually, Feliciano _winked_ at him and Kiku gave him a thumbs up with a sharp nod). As requested, Alfred let go of Arthur and sweet air flooded back into his lungs. "Shall we go into the game room?" Kiku suggested politely. Alfred whooped and swept the mountain of snacks into his arms, leaving the rest of them to carry the games.

"Honestly," Arthur chuckled. "He never stops thinking of his stomach."

The remark was intended for his own ears, but Ludwig heard him. "Has he always been like this?"

"Yes. Do you know, he was actually disappointed when our nursery school teacher told him that you can't eat mud pies. I think we were about four at the time."

"I suppose he thought he had solved world hunger," Ludwig joked.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Arthur replied, remembering how much the news had shocked him. He had reacted worse at that time than how he had reacted when his mother had told him Santa Claus wasn't real.

"Feliciano is the same with his pasta. Pasta this, pasta that, pasta everything. But you wouldn't change a thing."

Arthur had never seen Ludwig with such a gentle face before. When he looked at his Feliciano, it was just so obvious that he loved him. The way the corners of his mouth were curved just slightly, the gentle tone he spoke his name in, even the quirk of his brow. Did he look at Alfred that way too?

"I wouldn't change him for the world," he said quietly. If only he could say that to the person in question.

Come to think of it, Lovino was wearing a very similar expression earlier while he was texting. That was _very_ interesting. Just who could make the grumpy Italian look like that? It had to be someone special. Even now, he was still staring at his phone as Feliciano handed him game after game. Arthur watched in amusement as he nearly walked into the doorframe and then pretended he hadn't seen it happen when the Italian glanced around self-consciously.

Snacks were abandoned on the floor of the game room. Since he wasn't one to sit still and wait, Alfred had already started up the game and was humming happily as he watched the opening credits of the game. Arthur manoeuvred around the various packets that lay on the floor and curled up on the sofa that sat in the corner. The smaller he curled up, the warmer he was.

With his eyes still glued to the screen of his phone, Lovino sat beside him and mumbled his hello. Arthur wanted very badly to lean over and see who his friend was talking to, but he kept the device very close to his chest. It was almost as if he were clutching it to his heart. But because Arthur was such a good friend, he respected Lovino's privacy and didn't look.

After watching Alfred 'kick some ass', as he said it, for far too long, Arthur was suitably bored. Everyone else seemed to be busy with their own thing. Kiku was supplying Alfred with so many cheats, Arthur didn't know how he kept them in his head, Feliciano was whispering something in Ludwig's ear and the German was blushing furiously. Lovino was still talking to whoever it was. You probably couldn't pry the set of controls from Alfred's cold, dead hands, which left him out of the picture too.

He would be forgiven for shuffling over to Lovino and peeking at the phone, he decided. So that was what he did. "Mind your own fucking business!" Lovino scolded him rudely, turning the screen away from him a moment too late. He had seen the name.

"You're texting _Antonio_!" Arthur whispered loudly.

"What's it to you?"

For God's sake, even _Lovino_ was having better luck with his love life than he was. "Are you two…?"

"No." Lovino, rather than sounding angry or protective about the issue, seemed a bit more disappointed than was probably good. Perhaps he wasn't having as much luck as Arthur had thought and was currently stuck in the 'friend zone'. Just like him.

Feliciano squished himself between the two with a happy sigh. "Ve~ Lovi, you should hurry up and tell Toni you like him already! Oh, don't look so surprised," he giggled when Lovino looked at him angrily, shutting his phone. "There's only around ten people on your contact list, and most of them are here. You haven't been talking to nonno this whole time!"

"Che." Arthur couldn't understand Lovino's Italian ramblings, but Feli returned them with an innocent batting of his lashes before turning his attention to Arthur.

Much to his chagrin, Feliciano wasn't content in meddling in Lovino's affairs. "So, Arthur. Have you been talking to Alfred recently?"

"Of course I have," he replied, eyeing the deceptively innocent boy.

"What about? Ve~"

"Stuff," he snapped.

"Have you told him-" Feli's voice was purposely loud, and Arthur clamped a hand over his blabbering mouth before he could say any more. He was still a bit reluctant to remove the hand when he felt Feli's tongue on his palm – seriously, how old was he?! - but the disgust outweighed his hesitance. Thoroughly repulsed, he wiped the saliva on the culprit's top. "You need to get a move on," the annoying Italian urged him. "Someone else will get to him if you don't!"

"Don't know how…" Arthur mumbled. Since Feliciano was offering, he may as well ask his advice. What did he have to lose? Except a friendship that had lasted for nearly his whole life.

"Say it to his face, or he won't understand," Lovino cut in. Arthur supposed his advice would probably be better than Feliciano's, since it was likely that he had a better idea of what he was going through. Really, Arthur and Lovino were similar in quite a few ways. It was reasonable to assume that the objects of their affections were both unbelievably dense when it came to reading the atmosphere and romance. "No offense, but Alfred is an idiot."

"None taken; he's thicker than two planks when it comes to these things. I'm guessing Antonio is much the same?"

Lovino nodded, _that_ expression flashing on his face, only to be quickly replaced by a frown. "You're lucky," he said shortly.

It wasn't how Arthur would normally describe his situation, but compared to Lovino's situation? Sure, he may be in love with a complete git who didn't read much more than his cereal box in the morning. Yes, he had been friend-zoned for the past few infuriating years. If this went wrong, he had everything to lose. Yet his chances were much better than Lovino's. If Lovino were to act on his feelings and they were found out, what would happen to Antonio?

At the very least the Spaniard would lose his job and there would be a permanent red mark on his teaching record. But if they were to engage in… (Arthur shuddered at the unwelcome image here.) There were lists for people who took advantage of under eighteens like that. It didn't matter if Antonio returned Lovino's feelings. It just wasn't that simple for them.

"I _am_ lucky," he realised. He was in love with his best friend – wasn't that what everyone wanted in a relationship?

Still. Curse his Y chromosome.

* * *

_Finally_. Alfred was kicked off the console and was forced to crawl back to Arthur. Now was the time to do it. Lovino frowned at him, which Arthur took as encouragement to man up and do the job. "Alfred," he said. Casual Arthur decided to leave him, leaving Nervous Arthur holding the reigns. "Er, I'm going to get a drink."

As expected, Alfred was unfazed by the Brit's jitters. "Cool. I could use a soda myself!" Because he was always prepared when it came to food, Alfred had made sure to bring a few six packs of Coca Cola with him. He was pretty sure he had seen Kiku carrying them off towards the kitchen.

The Honda kitchen was a very quiet room. The tap didn't drip, the fridge didn't hum and there was a digital clock on the wall. Arthur could almost hear his thoughts.

He could do this. Feliciano had given him some pointers too. Look relaxed, he said. So Arthur leaned against the counter and took a swig from the can with one hand on his hip. In his mind, he looked like one of those cowboys that Alfred had been so fond of when he was younger. He didn't even choke on the drink. Suddenly filled with confidence, he was sure this would go better than he first imagined. "Seen any pretty girls around school?" he asked.

_Good start Arthur. Figure out his team first._

"Not really," Alfred shrugged, opening his second can.

"Lily Zwingli is quite attractive," Arthur said, pulling a random girl's name from his head. He couldn't even remember what year the girl was in. In fact, he barely noticed her around the school.

"Guess so. But her brother threatens to kill any guy that gets within ten feet of her. I ain't gonna face that! And I heard he has a big-ass gun too!" A very valid point. Vash Zwingli, though he had been amiable anytime Arthur had encountered him, had a reputation that made any boy who dared to approach his younger sister cross their legs.

This really wasn't going well. First he chose the wrong girl, now Alfred was giving him strange looks. He had to give him some credit; Alfred always knew when he was acting out of sorts, even if he was a bit thick with those things. Obviously this was strange. Despite his best efforts to remember back, Arthur had never talked about girls with Alfred before. Maybe once or twice in nursery school, but only to say how 'yucky' they were. For Pete's sake, they were no more than five at the time! All five year old children think the opposite gender is horrible.

Time to try again, but through a different means. "You know, I've been thinking of asking Mei out." Mei Lee was one of the prettiest girls in the school, and she just so happened to be on the student council. As his form representative, Arthur had regular contact with the council. He got on very well with Mei. It was a believable cover up.

Yet Alfred seemed disinterested. "Oh. That's cool. When are you gonna ask her?"

"Er… I have to work up the courage first." Honestly. _Mei Lee_. Probably the most attractive girl in the school. Arthur was gay, and you could still get a slight reaction from him, albeit _very_ tiny. In his opinion, Alfred was much better, but really! Was Alfred asexual?

"This is kinda weird." At last, Alfred had said it. "Why are you telling me this? I mean, it's not that I mind listening. But we've never really talked about… y'know, girls and stuff. I don't really know what to say."

"Maybe I was just trying to find out whether or not you like someone." It was the truth, but not the whole truth.

Alfred wrinkled his nose, his thinking face on. "Not really."

Too vague, Jones. Not really? So perhaps there was a little something for someone. "Would you be jealous if I asked Mei out?" Damn, what had Feliciano said? Move a little closer to him. Tilt your head to the side. Stare him down, but don't make him uncomfortable.

He looked away – Arthur was sure he had heard his older brothers talking about girls a long time ago, and if they couldn't meet your eye, they were either terrified of you, hated you or liked you. Now if only he knew if it applied to boys too. "No. Mei's not my type. I don't really care if you ask her out."

Not his type. Three words had so many meanings. "Just wanted to suss things out with you is all." He could push this a little further. Leaning a little closer, he put a hand on Alfred's shoulder. Judging by the look he was giving him, Alfred was totally freaked out. It was just a little bit cute. "Since nearly all the guys like Mei, and I don't want a girl to come between us."

Pfft. As if Arthur ever had to worry about that on his part.

"Dude, it's cool."

Oh, fuck this! Could Arthur be any clearer if he wrote it on a freaking chocolate bar wrapper?! He was practically pressed right up against Alfred now. A pair of green eyes were reflected by the lenses of Alfred's glasses and Arthur was staring at himself.

_Coward_, his reflection said. _Git. Arse. Either man up and do it, or bugger off and go eat some scones._

Alfred or scones. Such a great choice. Either way, there would be no ignoring this rather odd encounter. It couldn't be laughed off and forgotten about. He should have stolen a swig of brandy from his father's liquor cabinet. Maybe it would have given him some courage.

Neither of them seemed capable of moving. Warm breath tickled Arthur's face, and if he was going to make a move, he needed to damn well do it now. "Are you sure you wouldn't be jealous?" he asked.

"I don't mind."

"And you really don't like anyone?"

"No." No _what_? 'No, I don't like someone', or 'No, I do really like someone'.

May as well go the whole hog now. "Do you know who _I_ like?"

Poor Alfred was terribly confused. It was frigging _adorable_. "You just said you were gonna ask Mei out!"

"I lied." May as well come clean now. "Alfred, I like you."

"W-what? _Me_?" He could have been wrong, but most guys would have pushed Arthur away before he ever got this far. Alfred didn't sound disgusted, didn't sound horrified, didn't sound angry. There was plain and honest confusion written all over his face, but it didn't seem like he was repulsed by Arthur's confession. Although the puzzlement didn't exactly speak in his favour. "Artie, are you being serious?"

Not that Arthur could blame Alfred for doubting him, even if it did seem a bit too far for a joke. "Yes. God, Alfred, you really haven't got a clue. I've liked you for two years now. It wasn't even a properly kept secret; everyone but you knows, apparently."

"Wait, so everyone else knows? What the hell!" Ah, there was the anger. Well, it had to be humiliating to find out something that was so blatantly obvious to everyone else completed escaped your attention.

"Look, let's not fight. We always fight, and I'm sick of it! It was staring you right in the face, you know."

Backing away. Distance increasing. Feliciano hadn't told him what to do if that happened. "Shit. Shit, Artie, I can't. I'm sorry, but you can't expect me to give you an answer to something like that straight away. Give me time."

Moving closer, though his head told him not to. Accept his answer and walk away. That was the sensible thing to do, so why didn't he do it? "How much time do you need?" he questioned him, sounding more desperate than he had meant to.

"I don't know, I just need time!" It was reasonable and Arthur should have been able to endure another wait. So why, _why_, did he do what he did next?

He had to be quick, though _Christ_ did he want to take his sweet time. But Alfred would run if he was too slow. He was already walking out of the kitchen. Alfred was strong; he was not so strong. But he pulled the American's arm tightly, forcing him to turn and face him.

Taking advantage of the surprise, Arthur leaned upwards and pressed his lips to Alfred's. Contact didn't last very long. There was no teasing breath on his face, no taste of Alfred left behind, no return on Alfred's part. It was short, but it left an impression.

"Alfred, I-"

"I can't." Alfred shook off the Brit's hand and retreated. He didn't even look at him again.

Bugger him if he ever took the Vargas brothers' advice again.

* * *

**Hey, remember me?**

**I'm sorry it took me so long to put this up XP I've been stupidly busy with school (I know I say that in nearly every A/N but it's true). But I finally finished up with my Lit CA today and I thought I'd share my joy. In the end, I never finished reading Pride and Prejudice. Probably never will. Ah well.**

**I wasn't really sure about this chapter, but never mind. Alfie and Artie kissed~ :D Not really the ideal first kiss, was it? I'm not done with the two of them yet. Shit has yet to come. On the other hand, things on Lovino's side seem to be going quite swimmingly.**

**Heh.**

**Anyway, I chose a winner for the little thing I held last chapter: Allers3. The one-shot is coming soon, I promise! It might take a little longer than I initially thought, but I won't keep you waiting for ages. I hope. Anyway, look out for that in the weeks to come.**

**Until next time, I less than three you all~**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen- Tell Me Which Way**

Things could not have been more awkward if a naked old man had just sat down in the middle of the room. It had started when Alfred had crept back in, followed by a depressed Arthur. They went back to where they had been before; Arthur beside Lovino and Kiku on the sofa and Alfred in front of the TV, beside Feliciano and Ludwig. That should have been it, but it seemed like all the fun had mysteriously vanished from the surroundings.

Feliciano and Ludwig carried on with their game of Spiderman Three, but were much less vocal about it. The sofa was a kind of cramped now that there were three people sitting on it again, but personally, Lovino didn't find being squished up against Kiku as awkward as the sudden silence. He was counting on Feli to lift the mood, but even the normally insensitive Italian could see that something had gone down and wasn't sure what to say.

"Uh… Alfred, do you know any good cheats for this game?" Oh, bless Ludwig for trying. Lovino would never admit that his respect for the German grew (just a little bit, of course) every time he saw how happy he made his brother. The respect begrudgingly grew again with his efforts to dispel the sour atmosphere, though there was a tiny bit of satisfaction when he failed.

_Never mind, Ludwig. Gold star for trying._

A pensive shake of the head was the only response Ludwig received. There was a little sigh there too. Alfred looked utterly defeated. Lovino resisted the urge to throw a blanket over him, because just looking at the American made him feel a little bit miserable.

Arthur wasn't much better, with his blank stare directed at his feet. "Are you feeling alright?" Kiku inquired.

"I'm fine," Arthur sighed. It was bull and they all knew it. Come on – it was not healthy to look at your feet for such a long time. Feet were disgusting. Lovino never looked at his feet more than he had to. He had never understood foot fetishes and he never would. Arthur would not be staring at them for such a long time if he was truly fine. Unless he had a fetish for his own feet, which would just be weird.

Lovino glared at the back of his brother's head, willing him to turn around. When he did, he tried to communicate via his eyes and facial expressions.

_Do something stupid! That shouldn't be so hard for you. Just fix this!_

But Feliciano just didn't understand his attempt at communication whatsoever. "Fratello, is something wrong? You look like you're having a heart attack."

Snappy retorts came to mind, but rather than starting a sibling argument and by consequence, making things more even more awkward, he pulled his brother from Ludwig's side and dragged him from the room. Under normal circumstances, Feli would be kicking and screaming. Wild horses could not tear him away from his Ludwig. Right now, he was just glad to escape the oppressive atmosphere. Even he, despite his insensitivity, could sense the tension. "Something the matter? Ve~"

"No shit, Sherlock," Lovino hissed. "What the hell is wrong with Arthur and Alfred? It's like they were forced to watch a puppy die!"

"Arthur's confession must have gone awfully wrong…"

"Yeah, well not everyone is as lucky with these things as you are," Lovino snapped tersely. "Forget it. What do we do now?" This could not go on another ten minutes, never mind the rest of night. Someone might actually go mad. He willing to bet it would be him and then there would be a whole chain reaction and it would be awful and he would be put off social gatherings for who knew how long.

To his credit, Feliciano's face was screwed up in concentration and Lovino could tell he was trying really hard to think of a way to fix things. Or make them less awkward, at least. Although the red tinge his brother's face was taking on was a little worrying. If he kept it up, he'd probably burst a blood vessel. "We should order a pizza!" he finally said, puffing his chest out in pride. Such was his master plan.

Food had its way of making things better, didn't it? It would give them all something else to focus on anyway. "It's worth a shot," he sighed. He wasn't in a position to reject the idea – he had no better tactics in his arsenal.

* * *

The pizza was awesome. Lovino felt very pleased, knowing it was his county's cuisine. Even better, it really had helped; as soon as the pizza boxes had hit the table top, Alfred made a heroic leap and nearly took a bite of the cardboard, not even bothering to open the box. Lovino pulled him back (the rest of them needed to eat too) and was again subject to the American's formidable strength. Being the conversationalist, Feli had managed to stir up a conversation and things had improved by a mile.

"I totally love burgers, but I would move to Italy if it meant I got to eat this every day!" That was what Lovino thought Alfred was saying. He had a nasty habit of eating with his mouth crammed full, which made it rather hard to understand him.

Arthur, on the other hand, was still nursing wounded feelings. But he managed to crack a smile every now and then, although he was avoiding looking at Alfred, who in turn, hadn't glanced at the Brit once. It was like a competition. Whoever looked first lost. It didn't matter. They were all talking again, and that was the important thing.

Whilst everyone was distracted, Lovino decided it was the perfect opportunity to sneak off to another room and be alone with his thoughts. And his phone. And his texting buddy. Nobody seemed to notice him leave. Even Arthur was caught up in a conversation with Kiku. The kitchen seemed like a good retreat. He sat down by the radiator, keeping his back nice and warm.

'**From: Antonio**

**S****í~ I play the guitar :D Marcos started before me, but I couldn't bring myself to throw it out after he died. I picked it up one night and it went from there. I'm not very good XD**

**02/11/2012 7.03 PM'**

So, what he had learned tonight was that Antonio played the guitar. Another interesting little detail that made him who he was. Lovino loved this. Maybe, one day in the future – near or far, he had lost concept of – he could tell Antonio that. He didn't dare to hope, but a little part of him wondered if Antonio felt the same way about him. Since they were sharing details, Lovino saw no harm in telling him he could play the piano.

'**From: Antonio**

**I've always loved the piano. You're so lucky! We should jam someday! That would be great :D Have you seen the pianos sitting along Main Street? They're probably a little out of tune, but if we ever happen to walk past them I expect a song from you~**

**02/11/2012 7.05 PM'**

'**To: Antonio**

**Stupid, you have to bring your guitar with you, or I'm not playing. Not in front of so many people. That would just be embarrassing.**

**02/11/2012 7.05 PM'**

'**From: Antonio**

**Oh, so you will play with me? ;)**

**02/11/2012 7.06 PM'**

Hell yeah, he would.

'**To: Antonio**

**Maybe.**

**02/11/2012 7.07 PM'**

Seconds after pressing send on that not-quite-truthful text, Lovino's phone played that annoying default ringtone that he had never bothered to reset, considering no one ever called him. No prizes for guessing who it was.

"Maybe is a very sketchy answer," a warm voice chuckled. Lovino's heart skipped a beat. He really was starting to behave like a silly little schoolgirl. "Can you be more specific?"

"No," he huffed. "That's all I'm saying!"

"Lovi~ Are you pouting? I can hear you pouting! How cute~" How the hell did Antonio know exactly what his face looked like? Scratch that – how can you _hear_ someone pouting?

"I'm not pouting!" he replied, but his answer was too quick to be believable. His ability to lie seemed to be failing him as of late. Funny how he was caring less and less.

There was a loud shout in the background, following by a short scuffle. "I'm sorry, Gil and Francis are staying with me at the moment. Thought I got away from them, but obviously not!" Lovino could hear kissing noises (although if anyone made those sounds while they were kissing him, he'd back the fuck away) and the crash of metal colliding with someone's head, followed by a drawn out groan.

"Elizabeta may not be here, but I can use a frying pan too!"

"Fuck you, damn Frenchie! I want to hear what he's saying!"

The voices faded and Lovino could hear the quiet click of a lock being turned. "You have wonderful friends," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"They're good people, you know. I don't even know where I'd be without them. But that's not why I called you. I thought that we could talk about what's happening on Thursday, if you're still up for it."

It would take some pretty dramatic incident now to change his mind. "Yeah, of course I am. Not like I'll be doing much else anyway." Nonchalant. Aloof. Not particularly caring. Maybe his front of being unfazed was a little too much. "And I was looking forward to it, kind of. I guess." Well, enthusiasm wasn't his better area.

Antonio understood him. Worrying was a pointless exercise. "Me too! It's kind of weird for me; I've always hated this day. But with you, I don't think it'll be so bad. At least we have coffee afterwards. Hey, maybe we can go this place on Main Street-"

"Only if you bring your guitar with you," Lovino interjected. "Or else you're pushing your damn luck. Nice try, but no dice."

"Just testing you~" he replied. Lovino could hear the smile in his voice; maybe that was what Antonio had meant when he had said he could hear the pout. "I'll call at your house at around two o'clock. Is that okay for you?"

"Great." A word that Lovino normally never meant sincerely. He was nothing but truthful now.

The shouting started up again. He guessed Gilbert had escaped Francis and was now at the door. Then he heard sing-song French and sharp German and realised the two had banded together. Antonio rebuked them good-naturedly, in the way that friends do. "I'll see you on Thursday, ¿sí?"

"Yeah." He was so socially inept over the phone, it was laughable. Goodbyes were awkward. What should he say? You hang up first? He couldn't say that. It wasn't that he didn't want to hang up – although he wouldn't have minded talking for a while longer.

Antonio solved the problem for him. "I can't wait, Lovi~ Bye then! Oh, and feel free to text me during the week. I like talking to you! Okay, goodbye!"

He liked talking to him. He actually enjoyed being his presence. The novelty would never wear off for Lovino and he hoped that it would never cease to thrill him so.

* * *

Arthur kicked ass at Guitar Hero. He wasn't being big-headed when he said this – it was a simple fact. He had never picked up an actual guitar and played it before, but he had tonight discovered his underlying talent. It may not have been real, but it was something. It was some time past midnight (he had stopped counting hours ago) and his method of distraction was working out very well for him.

Red, orange, yellow, orange, blue, green and red together, blue, _donotlookatAlfred_, green, blue, yellow and blue. Slash, eat your heart out. Even Kiku had long given up playing. Nobody was going to beat him, not tonight. He wouldn't allow it. He would show Alfred that he wasn't going to mope about, lost in limbo. He wouldn't be hung up on him, not tonight, not after so many years. Tonight, he would beat Kiku's record to a bloody pulp and then, he would have the satisfaction of knowing he had accomplished something.

Accomplished something better than losing his best friend.

Pain threatened to cripple his fingers (damn, this was fast), but it was better to feel physical pain than emotional pain. And he would play until his fingers were nothing but stumps if it meant that he never had to face up to what he had done.

_Keep playing and pray the song never ends. Keep this mantra in your head. Keep all thoughts of Alfred out_.

It was easier than he thought it would be. This metaphorical running did nothing to make him look good, but he was scared to look back and see Alfred. Labels like coward or disgusting, he could take. They were just words. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me'; wasn't that how the saying went?

But facing Alfred would mean facing reality, and reality was so much worse than sticks or stones or whatever vicious words could be hurled at him. And reality was right behind him. There was no escape, no matter how hard he tried. He could not measure up to the Hero.

Maybe he wasn't running as fast as he thought as he was.

"He's on fire." Alfred nodded in agreement with Kiku. He had always known Arthur to be stupidly determined, but this was not the same as before. Maybe it had something to do with the way his eyes were fixed on the TV screen, as though attracted by a magnet. As a diehard gamer, he knew that the Brit's eyes must have felt like they were being ripped from their sockets. After all, he had been playing for nearly an hour, the room was dark and it was late. Arthur was not a night owl.

_I was kissed. _His mind kept repeating it, over and over. Stupid stuck record. His fingers traced his lips. Was he trying to remember what the contact felt like? It had lasted a second too short for it to be imprinted in his memory forever. He still hadn't worked out whether he had actually liked it or not.

It had shocked him, yes. But was he angry? No. Nor horrified, nor repulsed. Actually, the kiss itself wasn't annoying him at all. It was the emotional mish-mash that he was trying to sort through now. He tried to use physical means; he licked his lips to see if there had been any taste of Arthur left behind, but all he could taste was tomato sauce and pepperoni. Not very surprising. Just a little bit more than slightly disappointing.

Should he feel more bothered about it? Should he feel irked that he was now forced to question his sexuality? Alright, so he had never really been attracted to a girl before. But he had never been attracted to a guy either. He had always just assumed that he was straight and left it at that. His mom had always told him to wait for the right one – he had never thought to _look_. And now that he _was_ looking, he found himself unable to tear his gaze from Arthur.

Someone else may have thought it weird, but to Alfred, it felt almost… Well, natural was perhaps not the word he would use. The feeling was hard to describe: it wasn't bad, and it wasn't trying to push him away, but he wasn't sure if he was being pulled in either. It was a strange middle-ground, and he didn't really know where to go from there. Going from friends to something more (whatever this something was) was a difficult transgression. Like a bird's first flight, or a child learning to ride a bike without stabilisers. Scary, but promising.

Feliciano and Ludwig seemed to have managed better than fine, if Feli's constant signs of adoration were of any indication. Ludwig looked more than comfortable – he looked happy. Would he be happy too? But he couldn't see Arthur being so forefront his affections. No doubt, Arthur being Arthur, he would be incredibly awkward and laughably backward. Arthur told him off for having no tact, but at least he could say what he wanted to so everyone understood him.

In a way, it felt like a loss. After their years of friendship, what was this to show for it? Unable to make eye contact, opposite ends of the room, no idea what to say to each other. And he hadn't the slightest clue what to feel. He knew that it could be a huge gain if he could just step forward and wholeheartedly accept Arthur's feelings. He had seen the films. Anyone who said they didn't want a fairy tale ending was bullshitting.

Of course, he too desired the two point five kids, the white picket fence; the perfect life. Married to someone who loved him with all their heart, whom he too was crazy for. You couldn't blame him for never picturing this ambiguous person as a man, much less his _best friend_. Dudes couldn't have kids. He didn't even know if they could get married!

He really needed help with this.

* * *

Morning came, and they left. Alfred was unsurprised to see Arthur leave without him. Hey, at least he was leaving in one piece. But Alfred knew how this would go. This was a strange, twisted version of their normal fights. They would go unspeaking for a while, and then all hell would break loose. It could be days or weeks from now, but it would happen. Delaying the inevitable was all too easy; but you could not escape it.

He thanked Kiku and drew his bomber jacket around himself. Wow, the bag of games was really heavy. Arthur had carried this without a single complaint, hadn't he? That was good of him, Alfred thought. Arthur really had been a perfect friend all along – he wasn't sure he could say the same for himself.

Last week's fight echoed in his memory. Arthur said he had taken him for granted. He had promised not to do it again. Well, that promise was quickly broken. And Arthur hadn't even brought it up. "Fuck, I really am a jerk," Alfred sighed. The cold wintery wind whistled in his ear. Almost as though it was agreeing.

Alfred wasn't a 'mommy's boy' as such, but he knew when he needed to turn to her. When he got home, he left his bag by the door and found her in the front room, washing the dishes. "Morning Al," she greeted him. "How was your sleepover? Oops, do you still call it a sleepover? Sorry, how was Kiku's house?"

"Not great," he admitted. "I kind of fought with Artie again."

She placed her soapy hands on either side of his face. "Sweetie," she said firmly. "No offence, but that's a very stupid thing to be worrying about. You fight every day. I'm sure this isn't any worse than usual."

Why pussyfoot around it. He had always been able to tell his mom about his problems; for a while after his dad left, they were all each other had. Things got easier when he met Arthur, but he had maintained a good relationship with his mom. "It is worse. Mom, you know how you told me to wait for the one?"

"Alfred Franklin Jones, if you and Arthur are fighting over a girl, then I swear –"

"We're not. What if the one is… Well, what if the one was a boy? What if it's Arthur?"

"If it's Arthur, then it's Arthur. Hate to break it to ya, but there's not much you can do about it. Al, you know I don't care about things like that. I just want you to be happy, and Arthur makes you happy. Do you… think you're in love with him?"

"That's the problem," he grumbled. Acceptance was never really an issue – his mom was cool with things like that. Besides, he didn't even know if he was gay. "Arthur confessed to _me_, and now I don't know what to do!"

Women were supposed to be good with handling love predicaments. That was what TV had taught him – girls were forever giving each other advice about boys. They always knew what to do. Not being able to work through his own problems and having to turn to his mom was a bit emasculating, but he could at least _try_ to be a good friend now. This was for Arthur. Arthur had done so much for him, and now it was his turn.

She took a seat on the counter and gestured for him to join her. Her silence was invitation enough to talk. "Then he kissed me, and I got really confused. It didn't make me angry, and I didn't hate it, but I just couldn't… And he looked so hurt when I told him that. We didn't even look at each other for the rest of the night. What do I do? I'm trying not to hurt him, but it's not working."

"Oh, Al…" She drew him in for a hug, and he didn't resist. She smelled of perfume and mint toothpaste and just mom. Being held made him feel as though he were a child again. Part of him wished he were still a child. Everything was so much simpler. "Poor Al. Love is complicated, and I can't help you very much, I'm afraid. I can't tell you how to do it right, because I made so many mistakes myself."

"But you and dad were happy once, right?" he asked her. He could remember the fights. The screaming. The crying. How it scared him, just a kid. But they had to have been happy once; otherwise they wouldn't have gotten married and had him.

"Once," she smiled. "But it was a long time ago. Should've known when things started to turn sour after the first year. We fought all the time, but we never made up properly. Kinda just left things at a poor compromise. When you came along, it got a little better. The novelty of a baby was just amazing – we both loved you very much, you know."

Alfred laughter bitterly. "He can't have loved me that much if he walked out on me. He hasn't even bothered to make contact since that tenth birthday card he sent me."

"The point is, your dad wasn't the guy for me. And deep down, I thing I always knew that, but I settled for him. We couldn't get over silly squabbles; in the end, we couldn't even agree on what to have for dinner. You and Arthur may fight a lot, but you always get over it."

"But I don't know I should feel about this!"

"Sweetheart, screw how you're _supposed_ to feel. Focus on how you _do_ feel, and work out where to go from there. I know you'll make the right decision. And for what it's worth, I think you two would be a very nice couple."

Well. That didn't help half as much as he had hoped. If anything, it had left him more confused. Coping with his and Arthur's relationship was bad enough – why did his parents' relationship have to be brought into the equation? Was he supposed to draw some kind of inspiration from it? All it did was mess with his head and make him think of nights when his parents refused to even breathe the air from the other's vicinity.

He and Arthur weren't like that. Or they weren't that bad, at least. Were they? His dad was the one person Alfred had never wanted to be like. It was bad enough that he was saddled with his terrible eyesight and general looks (luckily he had his mother's humour). He didn't want to be that person who left the so-called love of their life sobbing for hours on end.

He didn't want to be the person who was so selfish, they walked out with no explanation and never looked back. He didn't want to leave Arthur alone, like his dad had left his mom. She had been so hurt, and she still hadn't really gotten over it. That was why she had never tried dating, even though his aunts had tried to set her up multiple times. He didn't want to leave Arthur.

Perhaps comparing his and Arthur's relationship to his parents' was a bit extreme. After all, he and Arthur weren't even a couple. But when Alfred thought of all the years they had spent with each other, all the shit they had been through (mostly self-inflicted), they had come out for the better. Which led him onto a familiar point – why was he running when he had so much to gain?

* * *

Events at Kiku's house hadn't gone over too well, which was reason enough for Lovino to spend the rest of the week lounging on the couch, occasionally getting up to make pasta. Like every holiday, he found himself glued to bad reality television. He was ashamed to say that he was probably addicted to Jeremy Kyle.

One day rolled into the next, and before he had time to think about it, it was Thursday. He had only realised it when Feli brought it up at the breakfast table. "So, Lovi. You have your date with Antonio today, don't you?"

He was about to snap that it _wasn't_ a date, and then he absorbed the rest of the statement. Oh God. It _was_ today. How could he forget something so important? And he really didn't want to call it a date – not out loud, anyway – but if it wasn't, there was no excuse for his nerves. Nerves, however, were outweighed by the sense of anticipation.

He wasn't sure if he should be happy. It was the anniversary of Antonio's brother's death, nothing to be pleased about. But he just couldn't help himself. Maybe today, he could be someone for Antonio to rely on. Antonio may have been his counsellor, but Lovino wanted to be someone the Spaniard could lean on. They were friends now, pretty much.

_Dream big_, the voice jeered.

"Shut up," he told it firmly. No more of that crap, thank you very much.

"Ve? But I didn't say anything!" Feli protested, very confused. Poor guy.

Jesus. Talking to yourself was the first sign of madness – though the whole 'voice in your head' jazz wasn't too healthy either. Best ignore that. "I need to go get ready," he announced. Wait, did he really? Antonio was calling for him at around two, and it was only just past eleven. Three hours was a lot of time, despite how his frantic brain was trying to compress it into little more than a blink that would pass before he knew it.

"Ooh, what are you wearing?" Feliciano asked, excited. "You know you can't wear anything _too_ colourful, don't you? But not too drab either, you'll never attract a guy like that."

"I am not trying to attract _anybody_." Lovino sent a vicious glare to drive in his point, which Feliciano returned with an angelic smile. The teasing was on purpose now (hadn't it always been?); his brother knew just how to grind his gears. Worse than that, he enjoyed it.

Still, family life would be very boring without the occasional sibling spat. "I'm going to the shower," Lovino said, leaving the room. Hopefully the warm water would calm him down a little and help him think clearer.

Walking into the bathroom, he noticed the little razor that sat abandoned in the wall cabinet. He hadn't gone near it since Antonio had made him promise he wouldn't harm himself again. Antonio would be proud of him, he was sure. Scars were still noticeable on his bare arms, but they faded a little more each day. With the exception of one or two from times when he had come very close to _too far_, it was possible that the majority of them would almost disappear.

Yes, Antonio _would_ be proud of him. In fact, he would be lying had he said he wasn't at least a tiny bit proud of himself.

He had never been one for singing in the shower, but he hummed a catchy pop song as he lathered the shampoo. The name of the person or group who sang it escaped his mind. The annoying little tune had been stuck his head ever since he had heard it on the radio the other day. Something about having a good time.

Today would be good, he could feel it. Normally, he was pretty sceptical of fortune telling, but he could just sense that today promised something. Unfortunately, _something_ was as specific as he could be. Oh well, something was better than nothing.

The assurance of this something made up for when the water ran cold and he was forced to rinse his hair in the icy surge. Certain situations called for a cold shower (not that he had ever found himself in one of them) and this was not one of them. As if it wasn't freezing enough outside.

_Just look forward_, Lovino thought as his teeth chattered violently. He probably looked like an insane ventriloquist's doll. The thought was enough to make him smile.

"Fratello~" Feliciano sang from outside the door. How different it was from just weeks earlier, when the worry in his voice was tangible. Now he was all sunshine and sparkles, the way he should be. "I've set your clothes out on your bed, ve~"

"I can dress myself!" Lovino told him. He tried to sound cross, but deep down, he was grateful that Feli had thought to help him. Thank God this was one of the times where 'helping' actually had been helpful. The results had yet to be seen, but he trusted his brother's taste. They were Italian, after all. Looking good came naturally – Roma had always said that, anyway.

Placing faith in Feliciano's judgement turned out to be the right way forward. Lovino felt like giving him a medal to commemorate the moment. However, he didn't really carry medals on his person, so Feliciano would just have to go without. A scratch behind the ear, a plate of pasta and a pat on the head would probably suffice.

He looked quite smart, dare he say so. A plain shirt and a thick winter coat. Okay, so he wasn't exactly a walking rainbow, but he would probably be wearing a scarf anyway. Winter was setting in with full force, and he had found himself taking an extra blanket to bed these nights.

Little over half an hour had passed. He guessed he had plenty of time to brush up on conversation.

* * *

**Bleh, sucky ending.**

**Did everyone have a nice Halloween? Anybody dress up? My Halloween was great – I went to a party as Batman, then I sat on my backside the rest of the week off and refused to leave the kitchen unless it was absolutely necessary. So much for 'being productive'! Now I'm back to school and I want another week off D:**

**So, Arthur and Alfred are being sucked into a swirling vortex of doom and gloom, whereas things are getting better and better for Lovino. Lucky fella! I was going to include the date in this chapter and then I decided against it. I had a killer block towards the end of this chapter that made me want to smash my head off the wall and I have important things in mind, so I need to be in a better headspace for that. Don't want to rush it. I'm afraid you'll just have to wait. Sorry!**

**Anyway, thank you to everyone who added this to their alerts, and thank you to everyone who reviewed :D You're all cool people. Freezing, practically!**

**Until we meet agaaaain~ :3**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetaliaaaa**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen – Baby, It's Cold Outside**

Roma was intrigued by his oldest grandson's uncharacteristic jitters. Lovino was the quiet one, usually, the calm one; he was acting more like Feliciano now, unable to sit still. He paced the floor back and forth and back and forth, occasionally planting himself on the sofa only to leap up moments later. "Lovino, are you going to pay for a replacement carpet?" Roma joked. Lovino just growled in response and resumed wearing a hole in the floor.

"Don't be nervous!" Feliciano chirped. The older man had no idea what there was to be nervous about. "It'll go great. Last time was good, wasn't it? You had fun, right? I was nervous when Ludwig and I went on our first date too even though we had gone out before. But Luddy was just as nervous as I was anyway and it turned out to be silly because we had a lot of fun and in the end I forgot to be nervous~"

Roma remembered his youngest grandson on the day of his 'first date' and nervous was not the word he would use to describe him. More like he had to drag him back down from the ceiling, his excitement was so great. Well, he was old now (kind of). He would guess that the definition of nervous had changed since his days as a youth, but there was no other label for Lovino. Clearly, Feliciano was the one who worked by different definitions.

From what he could gather, Lovino was going on a date. And he wasn't sure whether Lovino was happy or not. Furthermore, he was not sure whether he himself was happy about it. He at least had the benefit of knowing Ludwig before he and Feliciano started going out. "What's all this about a date?" he asked for what had to be the tenth time. Seriously, he had a right to know what was going on in his own home.

Just as Feliciano opened his mouth to reply, Lovino interjected. "Going out. Don't know for how long. You don't know them, but you don't need to worry."

"I'd already worked most of that out for myself," Roma said in his I'm-patient-for-now-but-you'd-better-give-me-some-answers-very-soon voice. "And, yes, I do need to worry. I'm your grandfather and that's what I'm here for."

"Ve~ I thought you were here to love us," Feliciano replied with his idea of a textbook grandfather.

"I love you both as much as I worry for you," Roma elaborated. A look of guilt crossed Lovino's face and just as Roma thought he might finally get an explanation, a car horn beeped from outside. The teen's guilt turned to panic as he looked out the window.

"Why am I doing this?!" he wailed.

Every now and then, Feliciano behaved like he was the older brother and pushed Lovino about. This was something that Roma had always found very strange – it was like a role reversal. At those times, he half expected Feliciano to start swearing and Lovino to start crying. Admittedly, Lovino did look very close to crying as Feliciano shoved him towards the door. "Stop worrying for ten seconds and actually _enjoy_ yourself!" Feliciano strained as Lovino struggled against his younger brother's monkey grip.

"I'm going to mess everything up!" Lovino protested. "This was a bad idea!"

Okay, Roma was really lost now. Lovino did not want to go on this 'date', so why was Feliciano practically kicking him out the door? Another pig flew as Feliciano shook his brother hard enough that Roma thought he actually heard his brain rattle around. "Lovino, get a grip! If you back out now, Antonio will be really disappointed and do you really want that?"

Antonio. The name was familiar, but Roma couldn't think why.

"He _will_ be disappointed," Lovino mumbled.

Feliciano nodded approvingly. "Esattamente. Now stop acting like a baby. Sometimes you have to put on a brave face and do what you're told even if it scares you. I'm telling you, it'll go just fine!" Lovino looked a bit dazed as Feliciano walked him to the front door and Roma wondered whether he should stop them and demand some answers. It seemed like what most adults would do. But he didn't. He sat on the couch and continued to observe, as he had done for most of Lovino's life. "I want to hear all about it when you come back!"

Throwing his coat at him and with one last quick hug, Feliciano pushed Lovino out of the house and shut the door after a quick wave. "Oh, he forgot his scarf… Ve…" he sighed when he saw it was still hanging off the back of the coach. "Never mind! Can we have pasta for dinner?" Feliciano asked him, as if nothing had happened and nothing had changed. But Roma knew better. Things _had_ changed or _were_ changing and he couldn't help but feel his age when he realised he was being left behind. And he didn't like it.

* * *

Sometimes Lovino wished he had a magical watch; a magical watch that could control time. He'd be able to skip tests, eat yesterday's tomatoes and freeze time to build up the courage that certain moments required. Moments like this. But he did not have a magical watch, much to his disappointment. So while he would have liked to stand on the doorstep until he felt brave enough to make the first steps toward the shitty little Peugeot sitting by the kerb, it just wasn't possible. Well, it was. It would just look weird. And it was cold. His feet wanted to pull him away when he saw Gilbert and Francis were sitting in the back.

_Not those assholes_, he groaned inwardly. _Ugh, be nice. They're Antonio's friends – don't fuck this up_.

His palms were sweaty as he gripped the door handle, taking care not to pull it too hard. It really wouldn't do to break Antonio's car before he even sat in it. "Ciao," he said quietly as he took a seat.

"Lovi!" Antonio's smile was wide but his eyes showed the tell-tale signs of a bad night's sleep. "Sorry the car is so cold, but you know what it's like." Lovino liked that Antonio assumed that he knew the ups and downs of the ancient vehicle. And he did, for the most part. His nerves stopped eating at him. He had been here before, after all. There was no need to be nervous. "Would you like a blanket?"

"I already have the Finding Nemo blanket!" Francis called before Lovino could answer. What was it with the Disney themed blankets? "You can't have it."

"Real mature." Gilbert mirrored Lovino's thoughts as he rolled his eyes. It wouldn't surprise him if halfway to their destination the two in the back started the age old chant: "Are we there yet?" It was like having a pair of five year olds in the car.

From what Lovino had gathered through a series of short phone conversations, Francis and Gilbert spent a majority of their time together either fighting or wreaking havoc. There wasn't much difference between the two, now that Lovino thought about it. Living up to their reputations, the bickering began. "I _am_ mature," Francis snapped. "There's nothing wrong with liking Nemo!"

"I'm way more mature than you and way more awesome, too!"

"I have come across _cheeses_ more mature than you."

The blanket had apparently been forgotten. Nobody had looked to him for an answer, which was totally fine. He didn't want a blanket, anyway. "Thanks for doing this," Antonio said over the arguing.

Lovino was reminded that Antonio actually wanted him here and enjoyed his company. "Getting out of the house is nice now and then," he replied, pointedly ignoring the fact that Feliciano normally had to drag him out of the house. "And I wanted to," he added. "Because you do so much for me. I thought that I should –"

"I'm your counsellor!" Antonio laughed. "Helping you is my job."

"Don't interrupt me when I'm trying to be nice, bastard!" Lovino complained. The swear slipped out without his own volition. When he looked to Antonio apologetically, the Spaniard was shaking his head in amusement. Or as much as he could, at least – he did have to keep his eyes on the road.

"You should start a swear jar," he joked. "A small fortune would build up in no time."

That was an old joke that Roma often had a good laugh at. "If I had that kind of money," he quipped right back.

Strange. The mood in the car was far too elated for them to be on the way to someone's grave. It was just like a normal car journey. The idiots in the back fought, Antonio hummed along with the radio and Lovino sat there, taking it all in. They weren't even dressed for a formal occasion; Antonio was wearing another pair of jeans that were far too tight for Lovino's good with a casual jacket. The very snug scarf around his neck made Lovino conscious of the fact he had forgotten his own scarf.

Maybe their laidback attitudes were their way of dealing with it.

Gilbert and Francis practically leapt from the car when Antonio pulled into the parking space. The car park was pretty deserted, just a handful of cars here and there. A couple of people hadn't even bothered to park in a designated space and had left their car sitting wherever the hell they had felt like. The gate creaked as Gilbert fiddled with the latch; how clichéd.

Cemeteries were quite far down Lovino's list of favourite places. Above being stuck between Arthur and Alfred when they were fighting and above maths class, but nobody enjoyed either of those situations. Graveyards… They struck a chord with him. He didn't know why but he had always felt very uncomfortable there and he never remembered what an unpleasant sensation it was until he was actually in one.

It wasn't that he felt like he was being watched or worried an axe murderer would jump out at him or believed in vengeful ghosts or feared an atrophied corpse would claw its way above ground and devour his brain. He didn't even feel particularly unwelcome there. When he thought about it, there was really no reason for him to feel such repulsion towards cemeteries.

He just did. And sometimes you just do and feelings need not be justified.

He followed the three others through row upon row of headstones. Some were spick and span as if they were cleaned on a daily basis. Many were falling into a state of dilapidation, moss climbing over the various epitaphs, stone crumbling and weeds springing up where the flowers should have been. Graves like that made him sad. The graves of the truly lost. Nobody remembered them, and if they did, they simply didn't care.

The air was filled with miscellaneous noise, from birdsong to an argument that had turned to a conversation between friends. The sky was unblemished and winter was creeping up fast. Just a normal November day. They stopped in front of one little headstone and Lovino knew this was it.

This was it.

This was _it_.

How sad it was. Marcos Fernandez Carriedo, who had been so loved in his lifetime, had little more than a rock to mark where he now slept. There was barely room for his name and his few years. Not even a little '_We'll miss you_'. It was the gravestone equivalent of a post-it note on the fridge. Feliciano always missed the notes on the fridge. He did too.

A pang of guilt struck him when he thought of his mother's grave – the grave he never visited because he had always thought he wouldn't be able to face it. He had never even tried. Not beyond the funeral. Roma had been able to afford a nice marble headstone with a heartfelt inscription. Marcos got a lump of granite and Antonio looked grateful for his lot.

Lovino watched on as the three friends sat in front of the grave and Antonio took a little picture from the pocket inside his coat. He gestured wordlessly for Lovino to join them and sat the little snapshot by the headstone. Marcos was almost a carbon copy of his older brother, save for his dark eyes and longer hair. He was also slightly weedy compared to his brother, but he looked as happy as Antonio did on any day. "I've never shown you a picture of Marcos before, have I?"

"No."

The older man smiled fondly at the photo and was about to say something more when Gilbert spoke. "He couldn't sing."

What a thing to remember about someone. "He was tone deaf!" Antonio nodded enthusiastically. "He loved singing in the shower and _ay dios_, it was painful to listen to!" Well, Lovino supposed it was the little things you remembered about someone. Even if was just the things that had annoyed you most.

"And he was a Brony… Every week, we would watch the latest episode together. Ah, it was beautiful~ We shared the magic of friendship together." The fact that Francis was a Brony wasn't all that surprising – not that Lovino was being stereotypical. His blue eyes shone with the memories of yesteryear.

"I was there too," Gilbert pointed out. "Does my friendship mean nothing to you?"

"Oui, but Marcos and I shared Pinkie Pie as a favourite pony. Rainbow Dash was your favourite."

"Rainbow Dash was _awesome_!"

There was more; Marcos was overly fond of spicy food and had once emptied almost a whole shaker of curry powder into the beans when Antonio turned his back for two seconds (not a pleasant night, he understood), he played the guitar like it was a long lost limb and Gilbert made him wet the bed one night by leaving his little finger sitting in a bowl of water – Gilbert assured them all that the poor boy had eventually seen the funny side to it all.

And then, silence. There was nothing more to say that hadn't been said before and 'we miss you' didn't feel like the right thing to say. That was obvious. Better to remember the good times and what you once had rather than to cheapen the memory by over-polishing it. They just knew.

Lovino didn't know, but he wished he did. Visiting a grave as a family was something he had never done before. He hadn't even been to his father's grave before. Actually, he wasn't sure where his father had been buried, or even if his body had been recovered. It was the mafia that got him.

He felt quite left out watching the others sitting together, remembering a person he had never known. Antonio's lips moved but not a sound fell from them, Francis had his head bowed and Gilbert was pulling a dandelion from the dirt, strangely quiet. The photo of Marcos regarded them. Lovino stared right back and thought of the photo of Camilla that hung beside the staircase.

Like they had planned it, Gilbert and Francis stood up simultaneously. "Gotta go," Gilbert said briefly. "You'll be okay to get home, yeah? Me and Francey Pants'll see you later." They turned to walk away, but the albino stopped and turned his head sharply to look at Lovino, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Toni needs constant love and attention or he'll die. Remember to feed him; but under no circumstances must you ever feed him after midnight!"

Francis whooped with laughter, clearly enjoying Gilbert's _hilarious_ joke. "Am I your friend or am I a gremlin?" Antonio cried, feigning hurt. The albino gave a shit-eating grin in response and pulled the blonde away with him, sending a two fingered salute towards Antonio and Lovino. Pleasant.

And then, there were two. A comfortable hush surrounded them until Antonio interrupted it. "Are you religious, Lovino?"

"Not really," he answered awkwardly, hoping he wasn't stepping on any toes. "I think my mother was, a little bit – she kept a picture of the Sacred Heart in the kitchen and rosary beads on her dressing table – but nonno never really encouraged us."

"Neither am I." Antonio sighed and rubbed his palms vigorously, trying to generate some warmth in them. The cold air wasn't that noticeable at the start but it began to bite after a while. Despite the heavy coat he was wearing, the chill was starting to get to Lovino too. He wished he hadn't forgotten his scarf; his neck felt really bare. As he suppressed the urge to shudder, Antonio carried on. "But I think he's up there, anyway. It's easier to think that. At least that way I can say he's happy."

"I understand." And Lovino did understand. Which was better to say: his mother had gone to a place where she'd always be with his father and they could recover the eternity they'd lost, or she was rotting in the ground and the end really was _the_ end? He knew what he preferred.

Antonio looked very tired as he lay back on the crisp grass. The grass was prickly against Lovino's hands and the ground was none too comfortable, not even for sitting. He didn't lie back with the older man, just watched on as Antonio yawned and traced the dark bags with his fingers. "What do you think Heaven's like, Lovi?"

He wrapped his arms around his knees, trying to conserve some body heat as he thought. "I don't know. Tomatoes with every meal, no long queues in the supermarket, and I guess whatever else makes you happy. Everyone has their own idea."

"That sounds nice. Heaven probably has the biggest Walmart ever." Lovino wanted to brush a hand through Antonio's wavy hair. With his eyes shut, he looked so peaceful. He had half a mind to let him sleep there, but it wasn't the right weather for that. "Gil and Francis always leave me alone here," he mumbled. "Couldn't tell you why if I tried… They won't leave me alone for a whole week leading up to this day and then they always vanish after ten or so minutes of standing here with me. I normally spend this time alone but I'm glad you're here now."

"I wish I had known him," Lovino blurted out suddenly.

"So do I." Never had Lovino seen such a weary, sad smile as the one that Antonio now wore. "I know it's weird to say that, but… You know, I always thought that if I knew him a little better, maybe he'd still be here. Could have seen he was suffering, could have talked him through it, just… Something."

"Could have, would have, should have," Lovino shrugged. "I think the same too, sometimes. If I wasn't such a little shit, then maybe my mother would still be here. But maybe she wouldn't; we don't know, Antonio. We never will."

"You always speak your mind," Antonio observed. "Everyone else always tells me that it wasn't my fault."

"That's because I don't know how to shut my fucking trap," he replied. Things would be a lot easier if he just knew how to shut up and stop insulting everyone. Or if he could be like Feliciano and that way, even though he couldn't shut up, he would only say nice things. He knew his words weren't terribly kind, but it was like Antonio had said; he was as guilty of speaking his mind as his brother was.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way – I like it. Honesty is the best policy, you know~" He eased himself to a sitting position and looked a lot better than he had before. Still worn out, but the happiness was genuine. Lovino shivered as the wintery wind shook the trees. "You're cold. We should go back to the car –"

"N-no! It's not that cold," he lied through his teeth. "Anyway, you should be here. I'll wait with you, but you had better make it up to me later!"

A look of enlightenment crossed Antonio's face and Lovino was worried that he had had a 'brilliant idea'. Seconds later, the worry proved to not be unfounded. Antonio shuffled closer, unwrapped the scarf from his neck, and threw the piece of clothing around Lovino's neck as if he was wrangling a bull; which was pretty much how Lovino reacted, especially when Antonio tried to wrap the scarf around both their necks.

"What the fuck!" He had meant to yell, but it came out too whiney to sound angry. He sounded like a child protesting over bath time – and the adult _always_ won that argument.

Antonio grinned in that silly way, enjoying Lovino's discomfort more than he should as he pulled the scarf tighter. "But you're cold, Lovi~ I just want to help!"

The Spaniard was stronger than Lovino thought, which was too bad for him. No matter how he struggled and tried to escape from the scarf's woolly clutches, he couldn't get away. All he could do was turn the other cheek as Antonio knocked their heads together. "Isn't this much warmer?"

"I wasn't cold to begin with," he huffed, ignoring how obvious the lie was. "Asshole."

"Warm me up, then. Getting a little cold over here," he winked. "Be my hot water bottle~" Lovino could feel his face growing warmer and warmer and redder and redder and he pouted as Antonio chuckled. It was cosy, he admitted to himself in his head. But he wouldn't tell Antonio that. If the bastard's head became any more swollen than it was, the scarf wouldn't fit around the both of them anymore. It was already struggling as it was.

"Your cheeks are like little tomatoes." Lovino wanted to slap Antonio's hand away as he poked at his face. "What's this funny little hair, Lovi? I've always wondered."

Oh no. Not the hair. Good God, anything but that damned _hair_! "_No!_" He tried to stop Antonio from tugging on it, but he was too slow. "CHIGIIII!" he yelled and very gracefully head-butted Antonio. Or so he had meant to do – it was more like smashing his face into Antonio's. And a little more had collided than he had intended.

He pulled back, only to be held where he was by the stupid scarf. Antonio stared at him in stunned silence. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

No shit.

"I'm sorry – really didn't mean for that to – um, that is – wow, I should really…"

Well, there went Lovino's first kiss. What a downright embarrassing experience, made all the worse by the feelings he had for Antonio; the feelings that the Spaniard didn't seem to share. How depressing. Nervous fingers fiddled with a strand of wool that had come loose from the scarf that still held them close.

He closed his eyes and kept them that way. Why open them? Why not keep the image of Antonio so temptingly close burned in the back of his eyes for now and evermore. Give into the silly, childish fantasies in his head – but not in real life, never in real life. In his head, the scarf around their necks stayed snugly and held them together like the red string of fate Kiku sometimes talked about.

Wishful thinking was all it was. And wishful thinking so often left you disappointed. In his head, he was free to conjure any scenario he liked, any memory he did or did not want to relive. And this memory, the one of Antonio just a hair's breadth away was one he wanted to keep for his own viewing. The way his face was tinted pink, the way the afternoon sun shining down on them made Antonio's hair look far lighter than it actually was – a spectrum of brunet – the way those few wayward strands fell over his face but never obscured his eyes that were so alert. The way he looked at him with a hint of a question on his lips; a request, dare he hope.

He dared not.

Moving back would be a good idea. Pulling away from the wonderful illusions that danced across his vision and plonking back in the middle of reality. The reality that this should not be happening and so many would call it wrong, but God, it felt like it was meant to be. He had never thought himself a believer in fate, but here he was. And how he hated reality for screwing fate over. But he didn't want to move. He always had been stubborn as a mule. If Antonio wasn't going to move… Well then, neither was he. He was almost scared to. This was a nice little moment. He didn't want to ruin it all; he was tired of wrecking things for himself.

He recalled his earlier wish for a magical watch and his mouth twisted in a grimace as he thought of how badly he wanted it now compared to back then. And still, he hadn't budged in the slightest.

And suddenly, Antonio made his move.

Lovino expected the cold to hit the back of his neck with its full force, for the snapshot in time to be torn in two and horrifically awkward silence to ensue between them as unspoken urges screamed and hollered and tried to push them together again because _why were they fighting this_.

Life never did follow his short-sighted little predictions.

He felt that Antonio's lips were chapped from exposure to the cold, but they were warm and they were sweet on his. Clichéd romance novels had always told him that the perfect kiss would make him see stars or fireworks – even make the world around him stop. No. Everything went as it was, as it should have. There was a gentle buzz in the background as cars drove along the main road. Voices drifted from far away as people conversed, and he ignored them because only one person mattered to him in this moment. He could still only see black as he refused to crack even one eyelid open.

The second kiss was light years better than the first. Now that he was intentionally kissing Antonio, he realised he had next to no idea what to do. How did he push to his pull? How did he make sure he was giving just as much as he was receiving? But despite the way Lovino was freaking out in his head, though still enjoying the way Antonio was nibbling on his lip teasingly, the older man showed no signs of turmoil. The best thing to do, it seemed, was follow his lead.

There was no denying he was clumsy, to say the least. Their noses would bump against each other and he didn't always quite move in time, but he would learn. He would learn. He was already assuming this would happen again. After all, they had had their first, they had gone back for a second, so why not try for a third. Or a fourth. Fifth, sixth, seventh, more and more and more. Such stupid hopes. He should stop, but he couldn't, not now.

But it had to end eventually. When he opened his mouth a little more than he probably should have, Antonio broke away and Lovino fought against an oncoming shiver. The Spaniard stared at him, mouth opening and closing. Lost for words. "I'm sorry," he finally said. The scarf was unwound and they were no longer within touching distance. As he moved off to pick at the weeds that had sprung up from a nearby obscured grave, Lovino heard him mumble to himself. "Sick, what was that… Taking advantage of him, you should be ashamed."

Lovino frowned, trying to understand what this was. Antonio wasn't pleased; he was ashamed of what had happened. Had he even enjoyed it? Was it…his fault? "That was my first kiss… First _real_ kiss. I-if it wasn't good enough for you, then I'm sorry."

"You're sorry for _that?_" Pausing in his task of weeding the grave, Antonio stared at him with an incredulous look on his face, almost laughing in his disbelief.

"Bastard, I'll be sorry for what I like!" Lovino crossed his arms in a huff and instantly felt ten years younger. Trying to assert his age (though Antonio was still six years his senior), he stood up and marched right over to the Spaniard, looking him square in the eye. Antonio was still crouched on the ground, and Lovino liked to believe he held some authority in his voice as he spoke. "I'm sorry if you didn't enjoy it. I'm sorry that the thought of kissing me disgusts you and I'm mostly sorry for how I'm not one fucking bit sorry at all for anything!"

"But you're not angry?" Poor Antonio almost had his eyes crossed in confusion.

"I am now!"

"But you weren't?"

For the adult in the situation and therefore theoretically the one who should be explaining things to him, Antonio sure was being dumb about this. "No, I was happy! Because I like you, or I think I like you, I'm so confused that I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore, and I thought you didn't like me like that and then you kissed me and I thought _'maybe'_!" He paused to take a breath and let the information sink in to both his and Antonio's heads. "Then you pushed me away and you looked like you regretted it and –"

"I didn't – I _don't_ regret it." In the same way that Lovino had been pacing the floor an hour ago, Antonio now looked as though he was trying to dig his own grave with just his feet. His hands tangled through his hair as he tried to arrange the thoughts, feelings and words in his head into something comprehensible. His anxiety heightened as he continued to draw a blank and Lovino continued to look at him like he both wanted to burst into tears and throttle him.

Some caffeine was in order, and some churros.

* * *

Things normally seemed so much clearer with a warm mug of coffee clasped between his hands. Not this time. This situation wasn't going to be fixed with food and drink, Antonio realised that. What this called for was talking. Unlike the time before, Antonio didn't sit back down as he waited for their order to arrive. He glanced back at Lovino, who was studying the coffee menu religiously. He looked away quickly, not wanting to make eye contact and make things more awkward. If that was even possible.

The five minute drive to Bella's Coffee House had been…just awful. He didn't want to think about it.

"Sir?" A girl waved a meticulously manicured hand in front of his face, bubble gum lips pursed in annoyance. Probably had to miss a date with her boyfriend because nobody would cover her shift and now she was pissed. "You're not the only person in this line. Mind letting some others on through? Oh, you're too kind." Antonio apologised, since that was the kind of person he was. He got a sneer in return and a particularly dirty look from the little old lady standing behind him.

It seemed that he just couldn't please anyone today.

Lovino nodded pensively as he accepted the coffee Antonio handed him. He bit into a churro and Antonio couldn't help but feel a bit disapproving as he set the uneaten half back on his plate and chewed slowly as though he couldn't stomach what he had already started eating. The rest of the plate was pushed towards Antonio – but he couldn't eat either. He could barely manage the coffee.

"So. We kissed." It seemed like it would be best to start there. "And you like me." Another solid piece of information to get a foothold on. Now was the time when he was supposed to make Lovino's day by telling him that he did return whatever romantic feelings he had for him and he wanted a relationship and he didn't give a flying fuck about labels like 'wrong' and 'right' because nobody else could tell him what the difference between those two things were; he was more than capable of working that out for himself.

He was about to; Lovino had the decency to be open with him (which pleased him to no end because there was no way he could ever have dreamed they would reach this point when they first met). A voice he hadn't heard in years stopped him. "Antonio – is that you? Or am I seeing things?"

A baby-faced blonde stood by their table. Bella Jacobs always had looked younger than her years, even though she was a year older than Antonio. The spark in her hadn't faded; as usual, she could barely contain herself as she danced from foot to foot and ignored how the mugs on her tray tottered precariously. With her short stature and the way the apron was tied doubly, she looked like a ten year old who had ransacked her mother's closet.

But make no mistake; nobody put Bella in the corner, as he used to joke. She was like a rabid squirrel when rubbed up the wrong way. It would have been an impressive sight, had it not been so terrifying. "It really is you! You didn't think to call for me? Well, I'll forgive you this time because it's been so long and you seem to be keeping good company. What's your name, cutie?" Directing her attention from Antonio, she blinked at Lovino who had gawked at her idiotically this whole time. "Dear me, you'll catch flies like that," she giggled.

"I'm Lovino," he replied, quickly recovering whatever latent gentlemanly instincts he had. "And you, gorgeous?" Antonio almost choked on his laugher and scalded his tongue with the coffee as he tried to cover it up. _Gorgeous_. The Lovino he had come to know, the Lovino that was the epitome of heartbroken, had replaced by a suave womaniser in a matter of seconds. How interesting; the slight narrowing of the eyes directed at him didn't escape Antonio's notice either.

Sharing in Antonio's amusement, Bella laughed as she plonked herself down beside the Italian. "A charmer! I'm Bella, sweetness. Very pleased to meet you."

Running into old friends was something that Antonio nearly always delighted in, but now wasn't the time for catch-ups. He wished Bella would take the hint when he stared at the door and coughed lightly. Even though he was being so goddamn impolite, he felt that was of little importance. And Lovino, all things considering, should have sent her packing by now with his biting words and ice cold shoulder that most strangers seemed subject to.

They were laughing together as if it was _they_ who had not seen each other since both had left for university. But Antonio had heard Lovino's real laugh before; it was quiet, breathy and he always uttered it like it was his deepest darkest secret. His laugh now was a raucous guise. On the surface, Lovino was putting up a brave front, but he was hurting inside. How like him.

"You're a counsellor now, yes?" Bella asked him. "It always was the best job for you. Kids really loved you. But then, who is Lovino to you, hm? He's not a student, surely. Is he – oh, no. I've interrupted a date, haven't I? Mon dieu, always the wrong time and the wrong place. It was super nice to see you again, Antonio, but I'll leave you to it…"

As she got up from the table, she suddenly looked a little lost. Her hands clutched at the apron and her eyes were unnervingly fixed on Antonio, as though she had something to say but wasn't sure. She gave a quick smile and was gone without so much as a wave.

Lovino's guard went up. Antonio gulped. He hadn't been on the receiving end of this sardonic, seething glare in a while. "Was she an ex?"

"Y-yeah," Antonio began uneasily. "My first girlfriend, actually –"

"So you're straight? And you led me on like that?"

"Listen to me before you cut in like that, please. I know you're angry and hurt, but I didn't mean to make you feel like that. Bella is my ex, but she's the only relationship I've ever been in – if you could even call it that. We went on two dates. I was just getting over Marcos and I… Remember how I told you that I was in a bad place for a while? Part of the reason was because I was coming to terms with who I was. And it was hard.

"Dating Bella was one of the worst things I've ever done. Not because she's a bad person – but because she really liked me and I led her on. And then I accepted that I was gay and I broke her heart. Lovino, I would never do that to anyone again intentionally. Ever."

He remembered how he watched Bella's world fall apart when he broke it off. She hadn't been angry about how he had used her like that. She was forgiving, understanding, still wanted to be friends. Friendship had worked out for them, but there was always something unsaid lying beneath the surface when he was around her. One day, he wouldn't be surprised if she rang him up just to scream obscenities down the phone.

"Then, you…" Antonio watched as Lovino slowly understood.

"I like you – a lot. I would've said something earlier but – but I'm a teacher and we would get in so much trouble for doing this, but _shit_, if we feel the same way then I know you're as willing as I am to keep this safe."

It was like planning a stealth mission, not a romance. Perhaps this was what it felt like to have an affair. Alarm bells screeched but it was so easy to tune them out. But whereas in the case of an affair, the guilt would eat you alive, there was no guilt in Antonio's mind. If there was any concern, it was for Lovino – not for himself, not about what others would say about him, how it would reflect on him, how hard it would be to get a job if they got caught.

"I do feel the same way," Lovino replied in an almost whisper. The adorable blush that ran across his cheeks made Antonio realise how difficult it was for the boy to be so open with his feelings. If he was willing to bare his soul like that after keeping himself in isolation for so long, he would do whatever it took to protect this. "This won't be normal, will it?" He almost sounded sad as he spoke.

"We can make it as normal as we can," Antonio assured him. "Like now, with this date~ And now, like this." He moved from his seat across the table from his Italian and took the seat next to him. "These churros are going to waste. We should eat~" He grabbed a pastry from the plate, dunked it in the chocolate and held it between his teeth. If this turned out how he planned, it would look just like that scene from Lady and the Tramp.

Ah yes, things were definitely normal. "Fuck no," Lovino said bluntly. He lightly nudged Antonio's grinning face away with a cold hand, laughed in that way Antonio loved the most and spluttered indignantly on his coffee as Antonio dabbed his nose with the chocolate and planted a messy kiss on his cheek.

They could do this.

* * *

**November was the busiest month ever. Controlled assessments and I was practicing like hell for a piano exam. Hated the pieces, hated the scales, hated the whole experience, but managed to just get a merit. Today was downright shitty. A girl in my year was killed in a car accident on Thursday, along with her dad. Went to the funeral today – never been to a funeral before – and the one thing that struck me was how surreal it was. I still can't believe she's gone. I keep forgetting, then I remember, "It's her," and then Brain tells me, "Don't be stupid, it's not her. How can it be her." I've never heard anything more heart-breaking than how her mother screamed.**

**I apologise for being late and then rambling on like this and if the ending seems slightly rushed, but I just needed to do something. Hope this chapter contained an ample amount of fluff and I'll have the next one up as soon as possible.**

**Thank you xx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine.**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen – Little Truths**

Psychic powers were not something Lovino needed to predict Feliciano's human-firework reaction when he slipped in through the door that evening. Feliciano was even more predictable than British weather, and that was saying something. He just had the time to scan for his grandfather's presence before his brother barrelled right into his stomach. The churros from earlier threatened to make a reappearance. "Umph!" he groaned as he threw out an arm to grab the coat stand before he collapsed from supporting Feliciano's weight.

Clearly, the boy had been a monkey in a past life; there was no other excuse for his iron grip. Unless he did special finger exercises to strengthen them (which would explain why they were impossible to pry from the back of his coat) and lifted weights to build arm muscle (this, he doubted. If Feliciano was weedy, a weed was The Incredible Hulk).

"Get the hell off me!" he finally gagged. "Are you trying to make me throw up my own fucking lungs?! 'Cause it feels like it!"

"Keep your lungs," Feliciano laughed as he let go. Lovino breathed a sigh of relief at that, and then another as he remembered how much he loved the sensation of being able to breathe. All that breathing made him feel even more light headed. The novelty hadn't worn off – he had a boyfriend. He, the miserable bastard, _had a boyfriend_.

Maybe now he could stop calling himself miserable because he was most certainly not miserable as things stood. In fact, he was powerless against the cheesy grin that was spreading across his face. Feliciano's happiness only set his higher. He was almost as excited to tell Feliciano the news he already knew as Feliciano was to verify what didn't need verified.

_It was real_, he had to repeat. He thought his heart skipped a beat every time he said it to himself. Much more of that, and he wouldn't have a heartbeat at all.

"Tell meeee~" the younger boy begged. "Everything! Don't miss out one little thing!"

He almost did, but he could see an orange glow emanating from the open door that led to the front room. Roma had probably lit a fire, which meant he could hear every single word that was being said in the hallway. "Upstairs," he commanded, not trusting himself with any more words than that.

His bedroom was cosy as they sat on the bed. Someone had drawn the curtains and left a blanket lying on the bed. Probably Roma. He often made little gestures like that. Feliciano's anticipation was so great that Lovino could almost hear him vibrating. Unable to keep it to himself for any longer, he said, "I am going out with Antonio."

Well, Lovino was no Shakespeare.

"OHMIGOD!" Feliciano screamed like a little girl and Lovino expected him to start hyperventilating as he bounced up and down on the bed. He gave him a light tap on the back of the head and a reprimanding glare to quiet him down. "Didyoukiss." He asked in a hurried whisper.

Lovino's cheeks darkened. "Yes." He felt his ears burn as he thought of the slightly more than PG-13 goodbye kiss that had left his head spinning. And the kiss that followed it. Antonio said the first kiss was a pre-goodbye kiss. Lovino decided he liked those. _A lot_. Thankfully, Feliciano spared him the embarrassment of detailing whether or not Antonio was a good kisser (the best), what it felt like to kiss him (like someone whacked him over the head with a shovel and gave him a body-numbing concussion, but in fucking fantastic way) and if Lovino had enjoyed it (was grass green?).

"How did it happen?"

As Lovino retold the afternoon's events, not missing a single detail, as had been requested, Feliciano provided the suitable reactions: "I want a Disney blanket, ve~", "poor Toni", another high pitched squeal and a nice little "aw" to finish things off.

"We have to tell everyone!" he gushed. "Luddy, Arthur, Alfred, Kiku – oh, and nonno too, of course! You go tell him, I'll text the others. Then we can invite Toni over for dinner and introduce him to nonno and I'll invite Luddy over and we can all eat pasta and it'll be like we're one big happy family! Like Barney used to say! Won't that be fun?"

"No," Lovino said firmly. Feliciano's face faltered as his tangent was interrupted. There were many more happy possibilities in his head, bursting to get out. "No to everything. Feliciano, it is very important that you don't tell anyone; you understand?"

"But –"

"Even the Potato Bastard. Ludwig, whatever. You can't tell _anyone_. This has to be kept a secret. If anyone ever found out, if the school knew, Antonio could lose his job and there could even be inquiries – nonno would go batshit and I might not ever get to see Antonio again. Do you want that?"

Feliciano shook his head sadly and bit his lip – his guilty face was devastating. Yes, Lovino could be very hard-hearted, but even he couldn't stand to look at the face. It was like telling a child that Santa didn't exist.

"Good. Because I'm really happy, Feli, and I'm scared of losing it. I can't lose it."

"Ve~ I know, fratello. I'm really happy for you. Really, it was just a matter of time! Antonio and you are obviously meant to be together! You know, it's like a fairy tale. Fairy tales always have happy endings! Don't worry; I won't say a word. You'll get your happy ending, you'll see~"

Lovino sure as hell hoped so. The way things were going lately, he really believed it could happen. Maybe, sometimes, wishes did come true. "Yeah, yeah, riding off into the sunset on a white stallion and all that shit. I'm going down to sort dinner – act like nothing has happened, remember. Nonno isn't to know anything."

Though Feliciano was less than happy about keeping Lovino and Antonio's relationship under wraps, he completely understood the implications of what would happen were the information to get around. And Feliciano feared Lovino losing Antonio as much as Lovino did – he didn't know what would happen if he lost that. He prayed he would never find out.

"And Feli, don't take advice from a big fat purple fucking dinosaur."

* * *

Sometimes Roma had to remind himself that there were, in fact, three males under his roof and absolutely no females. This particular night happened to be as such. When he heard a high pitched squeal coming from upstairs he nearly dropped the coal bucket on his foot as he tended to the dying fire in the front room. Remembering earlier, how Lovino had walked out the front door in a daze to be whisked off on a magical mysterious date by a magical mysterious person, he supposed he had returned home with good news.

The name Antonio was still familiar, but he had yet to pull its origins from the back of his mind. His age really was showing today, he thought dejectedly.

He had the utmost respect for his grandsons' privacy – they did not question the occasional guest he would bring home (though they had decreased throughout the years), so he did not question what they got up to. In fact, he didn't bother them at all. He always had been lax in discipline; even Camilla had been allowed to do as she pleased.

Watching her grow from a distance had been fine for him, but her leaving for Italy made him hurt in a way he could not describe. He blamed himself for that – he had made the choice to be a distant father. When his wife died, it broke him. Upon Camilla's death, reality felt like a horrible lie. Deep down, however, he knew reality was just crushingly truthful.

Initially, he had accepted Feliciano and Lovino into his home because he was simply clutching at the strings of his measly life. He came to love them – who couldn't love Feliciano, who never let anyone give him a reason to not smile. The boy was just like his daughter in her younger years.

Lovino was the same, but in a different way. Of course, Roma loved him with all his heart. Lovino had always reminded him of Camilla in her later years, when she had realised that her father was a little colder than the other fathers, a little more removed from her life. His oldest grandson had Camilla's amber eyes that narrowed on any fond word or gesture Roma tried to impart.

It had been difficult. So difficult. Like she was staring right back at him, as she had done years ago. Not hating, never hating – but accusing him of _something_. In a way, looking after Feliciano made him feel as though he was righting all the wrongs that had blotted Camilla's childhood. Lovino was hard to deal with. He avoided it. He was despicable in that way – not fighting the cycle.

Nothing in the world scared him more than the thought of losing Lovino because it would be like losing _her_ all over again, and he couldn't go through that again. When he learnt Lovino had been cutting himself, it terrified him. He had reacted in a rage, forced the boy into counselling, made him miserable and encouraged him to hate him. When all was said and done, what he had with Lovino was even worse than what he had had with Camilla.

When he heard that he was getting better, he nearly cried tears of joy. The new counsellor, whose name escaped him, was just what Lovino needed, or so it seemed. A selfish part of Roma hoped Lovino would be grateful for making him attend counselling; hadn't it all worked out in the end? Hadn't it been thanks to him?

Detestable, disgusting, shameful, repulsive, reprehensible. He was all of those things.

Things were getting better. They were. They were still on shaky ground, but progress was progress. But he still made sure to be careful. He couldn't ruin things now. Third time lucky, he hoped like a fool.

He still wondered what Lovino got up to, what had set him off on the big turnaround – or more so _who_. Feliciano would normally babble about every microscopic detail of his day, from the first car he had seen that morning to his favourite joke Alfred had told him that week – although he could never remember the punch line. Lovino remained shut off to the rest of the world. Roma never pushed him.

Curiosity was undeniable; he would have loved to know what was going on. Not knowing drove him positively mad. He would be lying if he said eavesdropping had never come to mind. As he heard the scream, it was the first thing that he thought of. Fortunately (or unfortunately) Feliciano made sure the whole block knew of his elation. "OHMIGOD!"

Sadly, it seemed that Lovino had the sense to shut him up. Of course he did; the boy was very good at hiding himself away and keeping secrets dead and buried. He wouldn't have wanted Feliciano to ruin that. All he could hear were mumbled voices and, weirdly, the creaking of a bed. He decided it was best to not listen in anymore.

After kindling the fire, he settled down on the recliner with the day's paper spread in front of him, Lovino entered the room and stood in front of the fire. He was blocking the heat. "Did you have a nice day?" Roma asked, trying his best to get some honesty. Not that Lovino wasn't honest with him; when it came to most things, he told the truth. The only problem was that Lovino was very selective about those truths.

"Fine," he responded.

"You were out with this Antonio fellow, yes?"

"Yes."

"Do you have something to tell me about the two of you, hm?"

Lovino rubbed his palms against his temples and looked down as though he was in pain. "No, nothing. I was just gonna order pizza for dinner – a Margherita and Hawaiian. Should be here in half an hour or so. I'll tell you when it's on the table." He didn't look at Roma as he spoke, and Roma knew he was lying. Which was really rather strange, because even when he was being liberal with the truth, he was normally a lot better at it. This answer was the Barbie of all answers; one hundred percent plastic.

Things were getting better, yes. But they were slow and he wondered if they ever moved at all. Progress was progress, he had always said, but progress was a snail's crawl and in spite of himself, he sometimes wondered whether it was going anywhere. Time certainly wouldn't wait for him and oftentimes he pondered when difficult became too difficult and if it was best to give up.

But he couldn't think that way; slow as progress may have been, time was precious and he couldn't think of a wiser way to use it than trying to restore relations between him and his equally as precious grandson. If only he knew how.

* * *

'**From: Antonio**

**Good morning sunshine :) last night I dreamed a weird taxidermy lion broke into my flat and ate all the bacon. Dead lions can't eat bacon. Why did it eat all the bacon D: I blame Gil for showing me a strange site last week**

**[Message received 10.27AM]'**

'**To: Antonio**

**Last nigt i dremt i kicksd youre ass for waking ne up befr 11 on s saurday**

**[Message sent 10.30AM]'**

'**From: Antonio**

**You're so grumpy in the morning~ wish I was there to wake you up with breakfast in bed :) please accept this photo of my very happy and not tired face and imagine it next to yours. In bed. Close to you. Under the covers. I don't wear pyjamas :3**

**[Message received 10.32AM]'**

'**To: Antonio**

**Fuck u**

**[Message sent 10.37AM]'**

Sunlight shone in his eyes through a slit in his curtains and he flipped off the sun for being so goddamn bright at such a ridiculous time. Couldn't it spare a thought for a groggy Italian who hadn't fallen asleep until around two in the morning, thanks to his very much awake mind? His annoying default ringtone started to play and he glared at the phone. No, not _conversation_! Mornings were when he was most socially awkward due to his inability to curb his bad temper.

As he answered the phone, instead of a conventional hello, he gave an exasperated groan. "Is this what you always sound like first thing in the morning?" Antonio questioned him. "Because if it is, you must look even better."

"You're such a shameless flirt," Lovino mumbled as he covered his eyes. The light was annoying. He shifted in the bed until he found himself in a comfortable position and covered his head with the pillow. Problem one, the annoying light, solved. Potential problem, eavesdroppers – and by that, he meant Feliciano – solved. "S'too damn early for that shit."

He could imagine the quirk of Antonio's brow and the little dimple as he chortled to himself. "Aw, Lovi! I know you don't meant that. You love it when I flirt with you, don't lie~" The pillow pressed against the side of his head also pressed the phone right against his ear. As such, it sounded as if Antonio was speaking right into his ear. This lead Lovino to think that this was what it would be like if Antonio were in bed, next to him. Close to him. Under the covers. Without pyjamas. The thought of that affected Lovino more than he cared to admit. He grimaced as he tried to shake the image, and the images that followed. Shame on him.

"Whatever, bastard. No funny business until after breakfast!" Or so he tried to tell himself. He didn't sound very believable.

"One morning, I'll turn up at your house with breakfast for us both. Can we have funny business then, Lovi?" He both loved and hated (loved was winning, however) when Antonio teased him with that husky, accented voice of his. Loved because, quite frankly, it turned him on. And yes, admitting that made him want to die of embarrassment. Hated because even if he tried to resist, he was fighting a losing battle. A losing battle on his part. Damn Antonio and his natural Spanish sexiness.

He tried to reply. Emphasis on _tried_. What came out of his mouth wasn't English or Italian; it wasn't a language at all. It was the vocal equivalent of someone smashing their head off a keyboard in their frustration. Hey, it wasn't his fault. Not once had he ever claimed to be articulate in the morning.

When his attempt at communication failed, he took the pillow from his head, set the phone down and turned away from it. Fine. He would just ignore the bastard. "Where did you go?" a faint voice questioned him. "Did you fall asleep? So cute~ Like a kid!" Antonio continued to ramble on, and whilst Lovino would have been happy enough to listen to that for a while longer, it began to get weird. "Cheeks like tomatoes~ I could cut him up and eat him! On toast, with grilled cheese. I wonder what he'd taste like."

"I'm still here," he replied haughtily, none too pleased with the idea that Antonio had planned to eat him. Also, Antonio already knew what he tasted like. But that was enough of that.

Antonio paused for a moment, wondering why Lovino's voice was so distant all of a sudden. "Lovino… Are you _huffing_?"

As quietly as he could, Lovino turned back to face the phone. "I am not!" he denied. "I was just getting dressed!"

"Is that so?" Lovino did not grace him with a reply. "Then, I guess I'll bring some breakfast to yours and we can get started with the funny business, ¿sí?"

"Turn up at my house and nonno will castrate you," Lovino warned him. He was sure Roma wouldn't take the news that his grandson was going out with his counsellor too well. That was why he wasn't planning on telling him.

Castration was something most men wanted to avoid – that was Antonio successfully put off a surprise visit. "Your grandfather sounds scary," Antonio giggled. Who giggled in the face of fear? What _grown man_ giggled? His boyfriend, apparently. "You haven't told him, have you?"

"No; I've only told Feli. He wanted to tell everyone else but I stopped him."

"Bueno. Well, it's not good… I hate having to keep this secret. I hate not telling Gil and Francis, but maybe one day."

Of course Antonio felt bad about keeping something so (or big to him) from his two best friends. Lovino was lucky – sad as it was, Feliciano was probably his best friend. Yes, he did have Arthur and Kiku, and by extension Alfred and Ludwig, but Feliciano was the one he talked to most. He was able to share the most important thing to happen to him yet with his brother, and that was nice. Not to mention that it made it seem more real.

How desperately Antonio must have wanted to tell someone about this. Gilbert and Francis had been his confidants for so long – the three of them were as close as a threesome could get without being physically close (Lovino's eyes burned painfully as he thought of that).

More than that, he must have wanted as badly as Lovino himself did to just have a normal relationship. Even though Antonio had seemed sure that they could still have a normal relationship, the sneaking about part wasn't normal at all. And maybe, for a while, sneaking about made everything more fun, but all he wanted was to be able to hold Antonio hand in public. Or at the very least, know that he was able to do so. He probably wouldn't do it even then, but it was the thought that counted.

Things were a little messed up, but they would be okay, if they managed to stay put for the long run. Lovino was sixteen, and in March, he would be seventeen. It was only little over a year before he would be considered an adult and if they lied about how long they had been going out, well, that was okay. They knew the truth, didn't they? That was what mattered. Even if they could keep it quiet until Lovino's final year of school. And who was to say Antonio would be at Hetalia Academy for that long, anyway? He could have moved on to bigger and better things by then for all they knew.

"One day," he concurred.

* * *

It seemed to be oftentimes that Arthur found himself in a state of misery. And you could be sure that there was but one culprit: Alfred. Sometimes, blaming Alfred made things easier. Arthur was selfish. He knew he needed to pick himself up out of the perpetual depression, but hey, he was a teenager. This was the perfect time to be grumpy.

His mood seemed to be reflecting on his cooking. Normally, baking was a way for him to relax – he wasn't one to brag, but he did make _the_ most excellent scones. Even if everyone else turned their noses up at them. What did they know? Def Leppard played in the background as he brought the latest batch out of the oven.

They were rather pathetic excuses for food, he had to admit. He had been hoping for the little golden brown delights that he normally achieved. As he opened the door, it was the smell that hit him first – his hope had been burnt into eight, crisp, steaming mounds. Basically, he had created the culinary equivalent of shit. Genius.

"Bullocks," he said, dropping the tray on the table top. He didn't care if his mother would tell him off for burning the brand new table – the one she had spent all day at IKEA looking for, no less. Why anyone would want to spend a whole day in IKEA was a mystery to him. That shop was a health hazard! The sofas there were stack up to Kingdom Come. All it took was a quick nudge, someone standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you had a human pancake.

Éimer peered through a crack in the door, wondering what had Arthur in such a bad mood. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she saw the disaster on the table. "What were they?" she asked as curiosity got the better of her. Arthur blinked owlishly at her. "On the table?" she continued.

"Scones," he replied. He pulled a chair out for her and gestured for her to join him at his pity party. He didn't get on particularly well with his siblings – Éimer was the one that seemed to object to him the most, next to Angus, his oldest brother. Of course, he blamed Angus for influencing her. Some part of him suspected his unwillingness to share his unicorn collection played a part in her attitude – but it was _mostly_ Angus' fault.

"Nobody will eat them." The small girl regarded the scones in a way that made Arthur suspect she was worried they would leap up from the tray and attack her. "You know we all hate scones, right? You shouldn't make them anymore. In fact, you shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen at all. Angus says that you jeopardise the future of the human race when you're in the kitchen. He said that we need to keep you out of the kitchen on the twenty first. He said that the Mayans were predicted you would cause the end of the world. So please stay away from here on the twenty first, Arthur. I asked for a perfume kit from Santa and I really would like to get it."

Arthur was almost pleased that Angus was showing signs of a growing vocabulary, even if it just meant new insults. Like a little parrot, Éimer repeated everything her idolised older brother said and held his word as Gospel. "It's all a lie," he assured her, even though she obviously didn't believe him. "The world isn't going to end. And I'm not that bad in the kitchen! Remember when you were ill and I made you a cup of tea? You were grateful then, were you not?"

"You can make tea, but you can't cook," she amended. When Arthur tried to protest, she shook her head vigorously and her brown hair tied up in pigtails whipped against the sides of her little face. "Why are you sad?" she asked. "I don't really care, but you're grumpier than usual." She always had been a cheeky little madam.

He wasn't about to spill his romantic predicaments to a seven year old, so he went for the simplified version. He just wanted _someone_ to listen to him. "I said some things I shouldn't have said and did something I shouldn't have done to someone. Now they won't speak to me."

"But if you fought with them, then you don't like them?" Éimer tried to understand, but her mind was very much limited to her playground feuds.

"No, that's not it at all! This person is very important to me, and I'm very sorry for what I've done. My problem is, I don't know how to say sorry. Do you see what I mean?"

The trademark Kirkland eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Arthur didn't expect her to offer any decent advice, not at her age. But sometimes kids were smarter than anyone gave them credit for. "Why don't you make the person sorry?" she questioned him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Last week Angela told the teacher on me for sticking my tongue out, even though she did it first, so I kicked the ball at her and blamed it on Jack. Then Jack got in trouble, and Angela likes me now because I stuck up for her and she said sorry for telling on me. You won't tell Angela that it was actually me, will you? She invited me to her house so we could make necklaces and I want a necklace." With that, she hopped down from the table and ran out the door.

Obviously, Arthur wasn't going to kick a ball at Alfred's face. But Éimer had given him a very nice idea – he wouldn't just make Alfred sorry. He would make Alfred jealous. The question was: how?

* * *

**Here's a late Christmas present for you all! Maybe it was a bit boring but it was a transition chapter that I had to include. I hope you all had a fantastic day and the fat man was kind to you. I got a onsie and I have never known comfort like it. It's so warm and snuggly! Also, it's cow patterned and therefore 20% cooler. What was your favourite thing?**

**I know this is late again, but the past few week has been a bit mixed up. My dad had an accident at work and spent the week in hospital with a broken arm. He's fine and he'll be home today, but I've been busy keeping house whilst my mum runs errands.**

**Also, unfortunately, I won't be able to get much writing done at all for the whole of January. My mock examinations are starting soon and I really need to get my head in the books – should have been revising months ago, honestly. I'll get what I can written over these holidays and hopefully finish the next chapter, but I make no guarantees.**

**Thank you so much for your reviews and alerts/favourites. I'll never stop being surprised by the response I get from you all! You wonderful crowd of people. Also, if you feel like reading it, I posted a little USUK oneshot yesterday, so… I'll stop self-advertising now, haha.**

**Merry (late) Christmas and a happy New Year to you all Xx**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia! Please read the A/N, at the very least.**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

Lovino had chosen to travel to school alone on the first day back to school. It had meant getting up earlier than usual and suppressing more morning rage than usual – he was not in any sense a morning person – but it was worth it, even though he had spilt milk all over the floor in his bleary state. "No point in crying over spilt milk!" Feliciano told him.

"Ughhhhhhhnnnnnn," he replied. Using the best of his English, clearly.

It was worth it, it was worth it. That's what he repeated inwardly. At least if he left early he wouldn't have to make the awkward journey to school with his brother and the Potato Bastard. He didn't enjoy feeling like the third wheel. Even though Feliciano always insisted that he didn't mind, he still felt like he was cock blocking.

And, y'know, maybe he could sneak in a visit to Antonio. Because he could; not because he had _missed_ him or anything. It would have been silly to miss him, considering they had been in almost constant contact for the last week. Antonio had taken to calling him in the early morning (also known as the afternoon to most) because he was _'cute'_. Ass.

But then, screen to screen was not the same as to face to face.

So he missed him.

Whatever.

He cut through the park and every so often turned back to see the footprints he made in the frosty grass. They stood out in pastel green spots, dark against the washed out blades. It almost looked like snow. It didn't matter how old you got, he thought. Nobody ever outgrew the simple joy of making footprints in the frost, snow or sand.

It was half eight when he arrived in through the school gates, a few walking alongside him. They must have been the ones that took the bus to school, since no one within walking distance of the school was ever in before nine.

There weren't many cars in the car park, either. He couldn't spot Antonio's rickety Peugeot. Maybe it had finally fallen to bits. Grumbling to himself, he abandoned his bag outside his registration room and made his way to Antonio's office. He hoped Antonio wasn't one of the asshole teachers that turned up along with all the late pupils and proceeded to scold said late pupils.

Well, Antonio technically wasn't a teacher. And he wasn't the scolding type, as it were. He grimaced as he realised Antonio hadn't even bothered locking the door to his room – he needed to keep his feet on the ground. Didn't he know that anyone could break in and steal his shit? Airheaded dumbass.

The little plant in the corner wasn't so little anymore, now that Antonio had been tending to it properly. It was reaching up as far as it could – he imagined it like a child reaching for its mother or father, begging to be lifted. "Comparing a plant to a fucking kid," he mocked himself. Little buds decorated it. Some had burst open to reveal delicate pink flowers. It was nice.

Antonio's bookshelf was no longer empty, but full of lumbering books on various subjects like child psychology, the human mind and a book that read '1000 Thing to Cook with Tomatoes' along the spine. Strange. Each book looked as though it would take a lifetime to read, combined with their considerable size and general boringness (except for the recipe book). The crappy fake wooden shelves sagged under the weight of the many volumes.

Of course he wasn't going to look at what was in the filing cabinet, but the bottom drawer had been shut haphazardly (Antonio must have been in a rush) and slid open again so the yellow and pink manila folders were visible. That was right; he wasn't the only student Antonio saw. He forgot that, sometimes. But he was Antonio's favourite, wasn't he?

Favourite? What was he – a pair of socks?

He was Antonio's boyfriend. There.

"Mierda, se me olvidó cerrar la puerta…" Lovino turned to see Antonio frowning at the door handle, as though it was its own fault for being unlocked. The frown transformed into a wide smile when he saw who stood in his office. "Lovi!" He shut the door behind him, threw his bag in the general direction of the desk and didn't react when the entire content of sheets and notebooks spilled over the floor. Lovino didn't have time to stop the older man from throwing his arms around him and trapping him in a very enthusiastic hug. "I missed you so much!"

"Get off," he squeaked. But he didn't protest at the small kiss Antonio pressed to his forehead.

"You missed me, too," Antonio commented as he gathered the fallen sheets and placed them on his desk. Feeling like he had to help, Lovino arranged them in a neat pile, which seemed to amuse the older man. "The perfect secretary." He winked and made to pull Lovino towards him, but the boy squirmed away.

"I'm not a secretary, dummy! I just though the pages would look better if they were tidy. They were lying all over the fucking place. How the hell were you going to find your things today if the desk was all messy, huh? I was doing you a favour."

Antonio laughed and nodded his head, allowing Lovino to have his point. "Okay, mi corazón. But if I were to choose any secretary, it would be you. Would you be okay with wearing glasses and a short skirt?"

"The fuck?" Lovino almost roared, not at all pleased with the joke. "I'm not some cross dresser, asshole." He scowled and muttered under his breath, "Just because my mother made me wear a dress when I was younger…"

"What was that last part?" Antonio asked him. But Lovino refused to repeat what he had said, and Antonio let it go. He had only been joking about the glasses and skirt, but now the more he thought about it, the more appealing it was. There really _was_ something wrong with him.

He had missed Lovino a lot since the last time they had met. Even though they talked all the time through texts and early phone calls, having the teen here with him physically was much better. The real, genuine, poke-able article – though Lovino really didn't appreciate it when he poked his cheeks. It was his own fault for being so _gosh darn_ poke-able! And now he could ask him something he had been itching to say all week. "Hey, Lovi? You wanna go somewhere together?"

Lovino stopped rearranging the 'random shit' on Antonio's desk – now, wasn't that much better looking? "It's a school day," he said slowly. He had meant to say _'fuck yeah'_ or something along those lines, but he wasn't very good at using his words sometimes.

"That's true… But how about Friday?"

Yes, he wanted to go. Getting out of the house would be freaking great. But then he'd have to tell his grandfather that he'd be going out and Roma would want to know why he was going out and where he was going to and then he'd have to make up some crap excuse like, "I'm going to a friend's house," and Roma might suspect something and check and find out it was a lie and he'd ask Feliciano and _of course_ that boy would spill the beans and Roma would find out everything because Lovino told Feliciano _every fucking thing_ and Feliciano couldn't keep a secret in his head for any longer than Tiger Woods could keep it in his pants.

Wow. At least he didn't articulate that; obviously all those years living with Feliciano had rubbed off on him.

Did people still make Tiger Woods jokes?

Antonio's voice shook him out of his troubled reverie. "It's just, you said that you wanted this to be normal. And this is me trying my best to make things as normal as possible. Obviously we can't go anywhere where someone we know might see us, but I passed by a place a while ago and I thought you would really like it. Will you go?"

No way could Lovino ever deny Antonio that, even if he tried. It was embarrassing to know that Antonio had actually put so much thought into a day just for him, but he supposed that was what people for each other when they were… Together. And it was a nice feeling, too. It was also pretty exciting, he thought. "Where are we going?"

The Spaniard tapped the side of his nose and grinned like he knew the greatest secret in the world. "That would be telling! You'll see, Lovi. I want to keep you on your toes."

Lovino found himself divided between being incredibly annoyed at the vague answer and the urge to do something Feliciano-ish to express his eagerness. This was their first _proper_ date, after all. He wondered where they would go. The cinema? But he didn't think there were any good films out at the moment. He hoped it wasn't bowling, either. He was an atrocious bowler. Before his first (and last) attempt at bowling, he thought things like dropping the ball on your foot only happened on TV. As it turned out, it was also very likely to happen in real life. He swore his middle toe wasn't bent like that before he dropped the biggest freaking ball there on it. Why did guys feel like they had to exert their masculinity like that? And why hadn't he seen that coming?

He wasn't going to think about it. That way, he wouldn't start panicking about whether or not he would like it. Anyway, he was sure he would like it – even a dunce like Antonio could plan a first date without any major cock ups. It couldn't be that hard.

Right. It would be fine.

"Idiot. You're supposed to sweep me off my feet, not keep me on my toes!" Of course his pout was feigned, and Antonio knew it because Lovino never really meant to be grumpy; that was what he thought, anyway. But he could get rid of Lovino's bad moods faster than Francis could strip – again, just his opinion.

He could tell Lovino was excited by the way he bit his lip to keep from smiling, which made him smile. The moment he spotted the brochure he had known that it was the perfect place. Although he had never actually been to where he wanted to take them, it looked incredible, like a place where adults like him and introverts like Lovino could follow childish whims and not feel ashamed because, _hell, didn't that just look magical_. And there was a special exhibition on that he really wanted to see. Maybe the whole idea was a little more for himself than anything, but there was no way anyone could be miserable at a place like that.

"Come here." Not giving the boy a chance, he glomped him. Judging by the gagging sound Lovino made, he hadn't received enough of a warning but Antonio held tight regardless. Lovino's face was so soft, especially when he rubbed their cheeks together like that. He hummed absent-mindedly and pressed light kisses here and there.

"This is weird."

"Smooth as a baby's butt~"

"Pervert." He squirmed out of Antonio's arms and smacked him across of the back of his head. "Don't use that phrase, it sounds like you personally go around feeling the asses of infants."

Antonio was about to make a smartass comment about the only ass he would ever feel was his Lovi's when a loud knock interrupted him. "Anyone here, aru?" They sprang apart and tried their level best to look natural – whatever that looked like. It was hard to remember in their sudden panic.

Natural was Antonio doing an impressive leap over the desk – why go around when you could channel your inner ninja – and piling himself into his seat in his normal boyish fashion and Lovino scolding, "Clumsy idiot!" as he tried to fix the once again scattered sheets, because Antonio had managed to knock them over. Actually, that pretty much _was_ the norm.

"Come on in!" Antonio called, trying to sound as though everything was chill. In his opinion, he did a very good job of acting.

Yao opened the door and seemed surprised to find Lovino on his hands and knees, trying to gather the sheets. Okay, so they got very close to natural. "What are you doing in here at this time?" he frowned.

"He just wanted some quick advice!" Antonio replied very quickly, since Lovino was still scrambling to his feet and straightening out his uniform. "About… Uh, a girl he likes. And, y'know, giving advice is part of my job! So I gave him advice."

"Yeah, he was just helping me pick up the chicks." Sweet, dear Jesus, Lovino hated how much he sounded like a lecherous scut when he said that, but anything to make the head feel awkward. If he felt awkward, then he wouldn't ask any questions; or so went his theory. Yao gave him a very wary look and for a dreaded second he thought it wouldn't work and he would have to fucking _wink_ or something equally as absurd and lewd, but he was incredibly relieved when he was given the jerky nod. Safe. Forever a womanising sleazebag in the head's eyes, but _safe_.

"Good luck!" Antonio's face began to hurt as he forced a face-splitting grin at Lovino in an effort to signal that he should leave. He probably looked like an escaped mental patient, but the message was received and Lovino darted out the doorway.

"I'm glad to see that he's… Come along." Yao said. The hesitance as he spoke sounded as though he wondered if he had come along in the right direction. Whatever; at least they had pulled it off, for now. The close call was just a little bit terrifying, yet still exciting. Though no matter how exciting it was, he still knew it couldn't happen again. The next time could be the last.

* * *

Arthur was genuinely looking forward to the glorious return to the plain brick building. No more moping around the house. No, he was ready to grab life by the balls and make things goes his way. His plan had been perfectly formulated and he was eager to act upon it. One could almost see a skip in his step as he made his way down the greyish-white hallways. Such inspirational colours for gloomy students.

He opened the door to room G2 and sitting right where he always sat in the morning was Alfred. Good. Alfred looked away sheepishly, eyes darting in every direction except towards Arthur. Well, of course the poor boy would feel awkward. Arthur didn't blame him. In the past few days, he had had plenty of time to think back on the kiss and cringed horribly at the actions of his past self.

He ought to have known Alfred would react like that. Hadn't he been friends with him for at least ten years now? That was over half his life. Even during their early years of school together, Alfred had never been able to simply hold a girl's hand for five minutes on a day trip without malfunctioning. Some hero he was; the girls were always terribly offended. Obviously he would freak out over an unexpected kiss – never mind a kiss from a boy, never mind a kiss from his _best friend_.

But, alas. Past Arthur's mistakes aside, Present Arthur was determined to move onwards and upwards. If all went according to plan (which, of course, it would), Alfred would realise just how he felt. Arthur was sure he had seen it. He was positive he wasn't simply imagining it. It wasn't a trick of the light.

The American hadn't been angry, repulsed – no. Above all things, Arthur had seen it. Confusion. There was doubt. Alfred had been unsure, and all he needed now was a little help to make his mind up from Arthur. What were friends for?

Oh no, he wouldn't be caught grovelling to Mr Jones. The Brit was adamant that he would never fall that low, not if he had any say in it. Some would perhaps say that making Alfred jealous was a petty thing to do, that he had already sunk a level. He didn't think so. It wasn't making him jealous so much as showing him what he was missing. A little teaser; like the trailer of a film or a game.

Alfred nodded with jarred movements like a puppet. His cheeks certainly looked like the blush had been painted on, so garishly red it was. _Sweet_, he cooed inwardly. That was right; they never had made up, had they? He had been so busy hatching ideas that he had forgotten. "Good morning," he said in his normal jovial tone, hoping to make it clear that he was over it.

It looked as Alfred's jaw would hit the floor. "M-morning?" he stuttered, as if he was unsure of the exact time of day.

"I can't believe Mr Reynolds gave us all that physics homework to do. Bloody hell, I have had it up to here with circuits! Resistors are impossible."

"Oh. If you were having that much trouble… Uh, you could have texted me or something. I guess. Circuits aren't all that hard if you think them through."

He lied, of course. Alfred, that is. Arthur knew him well enough to tell that. There would have been no reply, had Arthur attempted to text him. Under normal circumstances, Alfred would have told him to call rather than text, but he supposed normal was something they'd have to try and remember now. It was strange when normal became a foreign concept.

"No, no. It's about time I learnt to do these things for myself. Even though they'll never be of any use to me."

"Oh. I guess so."

_Good going_, Arthur thought. _Exerting your independence and effectively killing all conversation_.

He almost sang out his relief when he saw Lovino walk through the door and slide into his normal seat with a mumbled greeting. That was as much of a 'good morning' he would get from Lovino, not that it surprised him very much. Give that boy the tools to write Shakespeare and he would write My Immortal. "How's Antonio?" he asked him. Why Lovino looked so utterly shocked, he didn't know. Clearly he didn't know that he seemed to have an 'Antonio Expression'. Arthur had seen him wearing it when he had been texting at Kiku's and it was the exact same biting-his-cheeks-and-trying-not-to-smile look that had been on his face precisely four seconds prior.

"How the fuck would I know? Haven't seen anything on the news, so I guess he's still alive."

Antonio was fine, by the sounds of things.

Arthur wished he knew what was going on between the two. He wasn't normally such a nosy person. He could care less about the latest doomed celeb marriage, who was having whose baby, what she said he said they said about her. Maybe it was the abnormality of it. He had heard all the gossip of the day a million times before, but when had he ever heard of a student infatuation with a member of staff that had actually gone anywhere?

He also noted that it was rather important in his grand scheme of things.

Of course he wouldn't be one to intrude.

* * *

**Hi. It's been a while. Three months. Guys, I'm so sorry. I've been staring at that last sentence for the last few weeks and I just don't know where to go with it anymore. I don't know where this story is going anymore. It's entirely my own fault. At the beginning I never thought this story would surpass ten chapters and I certainly never even dared to think that I would get 157 reviews. I'm so grateful to you all, you are truly awesome and I feel like I've made some great friends through this. But I'm sorry, I don't think I can continue to write this.**

**I have no idea where the plot is going and I feel like everything I write down is just terrible. I started this over again like three times. This is all down to bad planning on my part, and I apologise profusely. I feel like I'm letting you all down so badly, as well as myself. This was my first fanfiction and it's been so important to me and I can't even finish it.**

**Please understand. As much as I want to finish this, I've hit a dead end and I don't want to finish it in some shitty fashion. (Like **_**this**_** isn't shitty.) I wish I could at the very least give you a synopsis of what was going to happen, but it's not a case of knowing what to write just not how to write it, I've just lost this.**

**I don't want to keep on like this anymore. I keep getting ideas for other things to write, but I don't write them because I feel so guilty about this and nothing is getting done and it's not fair on you guys or me. So I do have an idea that I've been holding onto for a while and I'm going to do something about it. I'll plan better this time and I won't let you down like this again. It probably won't be up until June time because I have so much going on at the moment, but I'm really looking forward to writing it.**

**Once again guys, I'm really sorry for this. Thank you for sticking with this as long as you have and thank you for putting up with my shit.**


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